


Close Your Eyes, Dry Your Tears

by MatchaMochi



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ....shadance? haha, Angst!, Established Hunk/Shay (Voltron), F/F, F/M, Hate Crime, Hints of racism, I wanna say its slow burn but, M/M, Memes, Minor Allura/Romelle (Voltron), Multi, One-Sided Allura/Lance (Voltron), Past Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Past Allura/Lotor (Voltron), Past Keith/Lance (Voltron), Well - Freeform, a little lance centric, adam is my bb now, and some more people that arent supposed to be dead, crack!, everyones thats dead is really dead but theyre ghosts so, fluff!, hints of depression, hints of homophobia, hints of lance/lotor - Freeform, hints of shooting, no beta!, past lance/nyma - Freeform, references and snark, supernatural florist au, swearing and bad jokes, the ghosts are really nasty looking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 17:12:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16937376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatchaMochi/pseuds/MatchaMochi
Summary: “Bluebell.”Shiro stares at the sign with wide, vacant eyes. The rumors don’t bother him, he’s only here for one thing after all. His back is aching from travel, his hands still shaking from gripping his steering wheel too hard. He strides in anyway, and the bell cheerily announces his presence.orthat supernatural florist au no one asked for, a constipated shance, and a ghostly adam





	1. Hyacinth

**Author's Note:**

> Alright okay first off this fic is wayyyy overdue since it was suppose to be out around Halloween but now we’re in December….anyway! since there’s a few days left to the new season I’ve tried to finish it before then haha I was actually scared? Of getting this out?? But well, this is my work and I wanna share it :’), secondly I have NO experience whatsoever in managing a flower shop, all of this are just questions I grilled from my sis who used to work in one so, heh, on a last note, this fic was written with Shinhwa’s LUV and Mamamoo’s Wind Flower in the background for some reason and I hope you like this! Give it a chance! ;) (PS this fic was written before S8 so(PS PS wow I need to update and rerrange my dead list wtf))

_So hurry up and bite down whoever you found_

_Game over, give it up now_

_Mayday, a double agent_

_Struggling over love and discontent_

_And here I wait for something to twist the plot dramatically again_

_-Dramaturgy [Eve]-_

 

His part-timers had gone back to school after summer ended so Lance only has his alarm to wake him up and open shop that Monday. He only has himself to blame really, Ryan never lets him press the snooze button twice and Nadia was always so adamant on him taking an actual shower before breakfast. Nevertheless, he gets off the bed at seven and saunters to the kitchen, rubbing his tummy, yawning and berating himself for not cleaning the dishes last night.

He feels particularly lazy today, so he skips shower and munches on toasts while his hands are busy flipping the eggs at the frying pan. He mourns once again about summer break being over, (Ryan makes eggs and toasts like it fell from heaven.) His kitchen is small, and he lives alone so its less crowded than before, the top floor of his shop is only just his bedroom, toilet, and kitchen really. He still misses them, they never came late and would always come in handy whenever a big order comes in.

He sighs. Nothing for it now, it wasn’t like this is his first time managing the shop alone.

Lance changes clothes, blue t-shirt and brown pants, takes a little time in front of the mirror combing his hair, deodorant and perfume over him and washing his face. It’s a three-minute step procedure of toner, sunscreen, lip balm and a little concealer, since he’d always thought standing around outside and heaving vases and packs of soil is going to turn his skin a little too dry for his liking. Finally, he totters down to the shop, gangly arms flailing around to get his apron over his head.

His phone is already ringing in his pocket, no doubt Coran informing him about the new batch of roses coming in today and the carnations and tulips already in his care and the events next week that needed direly someone that can arrange the flowers and Lance would you _please_ wake up now? Sun’s already up you know! Urgh. He’s very grateful at Coran for helping him _really_. Allura wasn’t lying when she said that he does his job good and honest but honestly sometimes he wants to throw his phone out the window.

He checks the order lists in his head and confirms it again when he strides to the backroom and spots the messy notes scattered all over the table. He grimaces, sighs again and starts to arrange it into a more organised order. Ten pm him is such a messy boy. None of the orders are due today though, so he sighs in relief and thank the ceiling for a relatively peaceful day. He runs his hands down the flower bouquet catalogue, (though he knows them by heart now) and finally walks to the front of the flower shop.

After he places the coffee he snatched from the backroom at the countertop, he finally picks up the phone and answers Coran’s one of many inquiries of his store. When it hits eight, the man is still yammering on in his ear, so he turns the phone on speaker and paces to the front door to turn the sign on. No one is out yet today as far as he can see but at least he’s punctual this time opening shop. The bell tinkles quietly as he closes it.

“- _and the wedding is in ten days, TEN DAYS my boy! I said to her, are you sure you want a thousand bouquets my dear? And she asks me if I can make you do more?! The audacity! The presumptuousness!”_

Lance laughs loudly at that, “Heyyy man cool down, maybe she’s nervous? Did you talk to the _other_ bride about this?”

“ _……it was her sister’s Narti death anniversary yesterday,”_

“Ah.” He winces as he places the bouquets at the front in a more presentable manner, winces again when his thumb caught on a thorn when he shifts to check his roses behind it.

“No way around it Coran, I’ll talk to the bride later. I’m _not_ spending the whole day there she hates me man- “

“ _I’m_ very _well aware of that fact Lance. That’s why she only talks to me and who is to blame here? Hmm?”_

Lance grumbles when he checks the succulents he started selling as a side project near the windows. Three of them had already started wilting and at least one of them had shrivelled. Well, he was never really good with them like his sister was.

“I didn’t _know_ it was her _mom_ god, she was beautiful, single, and she called me _cute_ what else am I supposed to do?”

“ _Lance,”_ and his voice sounds gravely serious now, “ _she told you about the daughter that was getting married with a beautiful woman next week while said daughter was glaring at you behind her back, I cannot stress how many clues you missed in that one moment alone,”_

“Gimme a _break_!”

“ _And while you flirt like teenagers the daughter threatens to lower our pay for the flowers once she finds out the florist she hired is sleeping with her single mother!”_

 _“_ Woah hey,” he pauses before adjusting the AC again, (end of summer it may be, but some of the roses never really survive longer if he didn’t make it a little cooler), “time out Coran, there was _no_ sleeping involved alright, poor woman vented at me man. She misses her husband a lot.”

“ _The daughter certainly does not see it that way,”_

He sprays water at the flowers in front of the shop, roses and carnations mainly. People were a little predictable lately, but he doesn’t mind making the flowers a little more sparkly. He strokes their petals, plucks and picks up any that were starting to fall off. He wonders if someday he’ll be as beautiful and as wanted by as his flowers. He huffs out a small laugh.

“Well, she wouldn’t be forgetting me any time soon right?”

“ _Lance! This is- “_

He shakes his head, stands up, “Look, until I get to talk to the other bride then we’ll talk about the bouquets and imports alright? I’m very busy right now you know,”

“ _Doing what.”_

Lance jogs to the counter and plops down on his chair, whips out the containers under, full of colours upon colours of roses, crossed and zigzagging over each other and he smiles,

“Daydreaming.”

-

It’s pretty quiet after that actually. He waters the plants, changes their soil and greets the random customer with a smile and a loud greeting. Choosing the right one for them are easy, more often than not they’re the usual get-well-soon! bouquet or the more elusive I-love-you-babe-please-don’t-leave-me bouquet, though he had encountered a time where one of the customers demanded to buy a bunch of his yellow carnations. He pities the receiver. (And that’s another thing he loves. The worn-out book of _The Language of Flowers_ his mother had given to him before she died lies untouched in his drawer, and yet he remembers every single word.)

The radio he places on the counter beside him is always on shuffle, sifting through pop songs, nineties, to the metal rock. Lance has given up on fixing it, and though a little old-fashioned, he was too fond of it to really throw it away.

Morning turns to midday, then to afternoon, then to evening. Somewhere through the suns travel, when the shop is empty and he’s sure no one is going to come anymore Lance takes out his old acoustic guitar he bought from his college days and strums out a little tune.

It’s peaceful and serene.

Sunlight pours down the colourful flowers, making the evergreen leaves in his shop light up in an ethereal glow.

Lance tries to sing a little, but he stops and grumbles to himself, ‘ _Why can’t you guys keep quiet for once- ‘_

It turns into night.

Lance stays up a little late in the backroom experimenting the aesthetic of an I-lived-bitch bouquet before he gives up and dunks a whole bunch of roses in rainbow dye and goes out to lock the front door.

And the thing is this:

He was sure he closed all the lights and yet a lone lamp flickers on and off in one corner of the room. He’d pulled the plug out of the radio but the sound of static whispers through the floorboards like the fingerprints of someone’s very dirty hand on his glass display. When he’d just wipe them a few moments ago. It wasn’t from outside.

Lance walks, slow and steady to the door. He feels a cold wind brush his nape when he’s positive he’d closed all the windows; his hands are methodical in its movements. He locks the door, takes in a breath and finally turns and stares back at the lilies gathered around the spot beside one of the windows.

There’s a man staring right back at him.

He’s not even putting any effort to hide, the lone lamp flickering beside him highlights his bloodied figure, his too bright eyes. Where were his eyelids? The man lifts his hand, a stick of meat and bones hanging on really, and croaks out an, “ ** _I w- “_**

Right when Lance sighs heavily and bustles out of his line of view, heading upstairs. He whines out,

“ _Alfor_ , I told you stop hanging around the lilies, didn’t I? You’re making them wilt,”

And that’s that.

-

-

Its always been at the surface of things a year after he set up his shop. Well, surface wasn’t really accurate now, more like at the edge, in the air, in your memories. The marbles rolling in your ceilings, the shadow that doesn’t look like yours, the whispers at the corners of your room.

Miss Shay had had enough of it, new to the neighbourhood and homesick even with the charming baker down the street, her brother is still miles away and her dead father something she wants to run away from ever since she started living here.

But she can’t. The windows bang at her at midnight, the lights in her kitchen wouldn’t behave and right when she cuts herself with a knife she _knows_ she hasn’t put there, she goes to the florist to buy a present for her no doubt irate, very dead, and annoying father. Puts in olive flowers in a vase under a portrait of him in the living room. _Peace._ That’s all she wants; her father might have hated her for leaving the family to leave for college but even in death she’d loved like a daughter should, but it seems like he hadn’t reciprocated very well.

And it’s the broken mirror lying on her feet that was the final straw.

The only thing her mother gave her before she runs away for her hopes and dreams. She rushes to the baker down the street, wants to wail and scream, wants to sob, but could only manage a quiet strangled choke and a stray tear before she tells him of her woes.

The next day, the florist comes to her house and throws away the olive and tells her to remove the portrait. Tells her to leave the house for a while and when she comes back, he is red-faced and shaking but jokes and laughs with her nonetheless as he cheekily tells her about the secret crush from the baker down the street and how he’d love to bring in some flowers he’d thought about. She is tired and weary, but still hopeful so she says yes.

The day after that, she greets her house with modest additions to her front porch. _Primula elatoir,_ the oxlip is a fair and pretty flower. _Confidence_. Who would’ve thought? And after, she sleeps a peaceful sleep, laughs in her kitchen where she finally invites the baker in, and takes care of the pretty flowers outside her house.

When her neighbours ask her about the flowers, she’d tilt her head to the side and smile softly,

‘ _Well you know, there’s a flower shop at Downbury street….’_

Somehow, that’s when everything starts. Blood stains on your pillows? Maybe you should visit the flower shop sometime…. Torn curtains? you know the florist knows _just_ what to do. A face at your window? Well, as I’ve said before, there’s a flower shop a few steps away and its name is-

“Bluebell.”

Shiro stares at the sign with wide, vacant eyes. The rumours don’t bother him, he’s only here for one thing after all. His back is aching from travel, his hands still shaking from gripping his steering wheel too hard. He strides in anyway, and the bell cheerily announces his presence.

-

-

‘ _He’s looking pretty roughed up now huh?’_

Adam snorts, waves his hand and tries not to scowl at his dead friend, ‘ _You’re missing a nose and your ribs are sticking out, he’s not the only one looking ‘roughed up’,’_

_‘Oh, come on now Mister Wells, you know it’s not the same.’_

‘ _It isn’t Wells,’_

_‘Warren?’_

_‘No.’_

_‘Winchester?’_

_‘Seriously?’_

_‘Weasley?’_

_‘Why.’_

_‘Way- ‘_

_‘You say another word and I swear to god I will shove you in the nearest aircraft just so you can die again- ‘_

_‘Alright alright no need to take out our guns now Mister Wyatt- ‘_

_‘God dammnit- ‘_

_‘-I’m just saying, you know. Your old boy isn’t looking so good these days, one foot out the other in the grave and all that, just saying,’_

_‘What makes you think I care?’_

_‘Hah! You’re not all that slick Mister Walter! Been looking out for eligible bachelors around him, haven’t you?’_

He huffs, stomps his foot (not that it makes any sound, god he hates being dead), ‘ _Fine. Just this once I’ll let you in, the idiot needs someone to pull his head out of his ass,’_

_‘Aww you’re too sweet Mister Willow,’_

_‘Shut up and listen. The fool is walking off to my grave and I feel like he wants to join me, I want to tell him that he’s uninvited but having no actual body is making this shit a bit hard. So. Here’s the plan,’_

_‘Ooooh I’m so excited!’_

_‘Just. Just shut up. For_ one second _please.’_

_‘Alright.’_

_‘Thank god. I need someone that can put up with his shit, take up all his fucking baggage and knows how to get him out of his head.’_

_‘Uhuh, uhuh,’_

_‘Someone that can make him happy damn it, someone- ‘_

_‘To take care of him?’_

_‘What? No, he doesn’t need a nurse, fuck he just got out of the hospital, he needs someone steady, bright, needs someone to rock his soul- ‘_

_‘Uh- ‘_ Adam was looking very intense right now, his voice is rising passionately. She feels a little taken aback, ‘ _rock his- ‘_

_‘-dick in bed too,’_

_‘Mister Wimble!’_

_‘Someone- ‘_

He stops. Listens, and narrows his eyes.

‘ _What is that kid doing?’_

_‘The one in the apron?’_

_‘Yes.’_

_‘I think he’s…. making a small flower crown for that cat,’_

_‘The flowers are too big and now he’s laughing by himself oh this is too perfect they’re both idiots.’_

_‘Mister W- ‘_

_‘Come on, we have our mark already,’_

_-_

_-_

-First Occupants-

Lance meets him when Allura came by the shop to complain about the lily that was dying in her garden. Once upon a time, he gets excited and breathless whenever she walks in the shop, long curling pale hair over her shoulders, her beautiful dark skin, the white suit cutting her figure attractively. Well, once upon a time he was in love, but that’s nothing new.

He beams at her and nods understandingly when she frowns in concern. She tells him,

“It was my mother’s favourite flower you know? Royalty and majesty meant nothing to her when she married my father, but she adored it and took care of it everyday before she died. I just can’t wrap my head around it, I water it like she used to, change the soil like she used to, but every Monday a little more of it dies and I’m afraid by next week, there won’t be any left.”

Lance hums in contemplation, lists of advices already lining up in his head to tell Allura when in reality it was already too obvious what was happening here really. He squints and makes up time for her to visit the lilies sometimes while all along the conversation of dying flowers and different manures Allura’s father huffs beside her tucking his hands to the side. The ghost grumbles,

 _‘I only ever wanted to see them you know? It’s not- for heaven’s sake, it’s not_ my fault _everything dies around me,’_

Lance bites his lip and taps the counter twice, their silent signal for the dead person to kindly go away please and thank you. Alfor is new here though so he clicks his tongue and continues,

‘ _I know you can see me, that little one over there has been making faces at you all day. Tell my daughter to buy the flowers from you Lance, the lilies can’t die but you can’t simply ask me to stay away,’_

His smile is a little strained now. Rachel, the little one who was indeed making faces at him earlier, scrunches her nose and blows a raspberry at Alfor. She hops down from the counter where she was fiddling with the radio and snatches his arm.

‘ _Hey there girlie I need to have some words with the owner- oh he’s your brother? Well let me- ‘she’s_ a pale, clammy small toddler in a blue dress, brown curling hair in disarray and an ever-present grin on her face and enough willpower to tug the old ghost away from him and Allura. He thanks her silently and promises to leave more flowers at her grave on Tuesday.

He gives out the suggestion to Allura anyway, causally and tactfully but not enough to stop the frown at her face,

“I…I don’t know about that Lance, I mean sure they’re still _lilies,_ but they won’t ever be the same to me. And I just, it’s hard for me to, to,”

‘ _To let go.’_

Lance stays silent though, it isn’t his place to tell her what she should or shouldn’t do, even when her hands tremble and her eyes go distant. Allura is a highly successful businesswoman, not really inherited entirely by her father but built back from the crumbling foundation of a recent scam and bankrupt. She’s capable and strong enough to choose what she wants to do, (he just wishes he was strong enough to hold her hand through it all).

 

The next day, he spies another ghost hanging around his lavenders. Uh, well he thinks it’s a ghost. Its torso at least. The headless thing turns to him with something akin to a rumbling thunder. Its _huge,_ covering the light from outside. Lance squeaks when he feels something knock at his feet. He blinks at it and the head blinks back at him.

“ _Dude_ really?” Someone must have hated him enough to decapitate him like that, classic evil red suit aside, guy looks like a villain thrown from the mafia. Guy is also grunting at him right now to give his head back to the body who has his arms outstretched to Lance, so he winces slightly before gingerly picking up his head ( _ew ew ew)_ and depositing it back to its rightful owner.

‘ _I am Zarko- ‘_

He starts to say before Lance waves him off and scowls, “Yeah yeah whatever, look are you gonna put your head back on or? No? Okay I know you got this whole ‘headless horseman’ thing going on but if you’re going to hang around, we have a few rules going around here alright? Tulips, orchids, and bluebells are off-limits, stay away from there. Go crazy on the roses and carnations I don’t really mind them, and _no creeping out the customers_ got it?”

There’s a long awkward silence before he gets a response, grating out like rocks tumbling down a terrain,

‘ _…. yes.’_

Lance smiles at him with his teeth, bounces back to the counter,

“Perfect!”

Monday comes in again, a _wonderful_ Monday because here comes Allura, her face set, a determined look in her eyes. On Tuesday, he comes to her garden to put in the new lilies from his shop.

-

-

The first time he meets Shiro, he ignores him completely, _entirely_ by accident.

The night before, he’d been digging his head about a request from one of his customers which goes along the lines of, - _Hey dude I didn’t know I was gay, but I think I’m attracted to my roommate, so I guess I’m bi? I dunno man but he’s very into art and abstract shit so I was kinda thinking that maybe you have an idea to confess my very gay/bi love to him through meaningful flowers? Thnk xoxo-_

And its obviously something Coran would make him ignore but its also something that he can’t stop thinking about, so he stays up until four making green carnations and debating to himself about the possibility of a first romance that doesn’t involve a lilac and a white rose. (He’d dyed all of them, god he’s just so freaking _smart,_ sometimes isn’t he?)

This whole endeavour is immediately regretted when he wakes up at seven-thirty feeling like death incarnate as he crawls down to the counter. His coffee is black today and Rachel is making pity faces at him as she switches the radio channel to classic music. He has no mood to hear Coran’s voice, so he texts him instead, jabbing his thumb at high speed whenever Coran tries to call him. He scolds Lance in his messages instead. In all caps. ‘ _I do not want to throw my phone out the window, I do not want to throw my phone out the win- ‘_

He hears the bell ring right when he thinks he’ll get a peaceful, customer-free morning and grumbles to himself about early risers and damn- He freezes. Damn…hot fire. He sniffs the air, cocking his head up. Is something burning?

And sure enough, it gets _nearer_. Its not just fire, he realises this now, its burnt…. chicken? Tangy and acrid, but not strong enough to make his eyes water. Its stinky its what it is. He looks in front of him and thinks ‘ _Oh, no wonder.’_

The man has half of his face torn off. His body is a vile mess of blood, meat, and burnt blackened skin. A military uniform is vaguely recognisable under all the after-effects of an explosion at his body but what unnerves him the most is the teeth shining down at him where the skin of his jaw was supposed to cover them. Makes him look like he’s grinning at Lance, or is he really?

‘ _Oh?’_ His voice is raspy, deep, (and admittedly under normal circumstances he’d would approve greatly), his hair is also burnt a little to the side but from what he could see they’re light brown and ruffled, somehow the broken glasses perched on his nose stays upright when he tilts his head to Lance, ‘ _Well this certainly makes things much more easier. What’s the matter kid, I’m obviously the hotter one, right?’_

He _is_ hot though, beneath all that grotesque accident and deathly skin he winks and grins at Lance with a confidence he sees in magazines, your classic handsome cocky bad boy. The smile Lance gives him is a little puzzled but then someone clears their throat beside him and he looks and- oh. Damn _hot fire._

It’s easier for him to catch the clues now, this one standing across the counter is Takashi Shirogane. So logically, the one grinning up at him like the devil right now is his ex-boyfriend. He is putting so much shit at Keith tomorrow, like he couldn’t’ve _told_ Lance that Shiro was hot as all hell? No, Keith’s life mission is just to make him suffer, _God_ what is his _life_ -

Now’s not the time to panic though, so he pulls himself together and tries to look Shiro in the eye. (Tired, grey eyes. His mind starts to wander to the black roses he’s been growing at the back,) his hair is pale, (like his lilies, like deathly pale skin,) his face framed by a strong jawline and a small scar across his nose, and yeah, he’s pretty jacked. The prosthetic arm may be the biggest clue of them all, with the _Holts Industries_ name emblazoned at the back (and Pidge excited ranting about new technology and the human body he gets to hear every time she comes here,).

Lance plaster on a formal smile and prays he doesn’t _look_ like death as well as he feels like it, “Hello sir, welcome to Bluebell how can I help you?” he thinks he’d never done such a good telephone voice in his life, ever.

And really, he should’ve known what’ll come next, what with the dead boyfriend and all but his heart still tugs a little when Shiro says _grave_ and _farewells._ A tight smile pulled across his face, the forlorn look in his eyes, he sees them in the dead every day. So, he smiles again, a little softer now, nods and asks him if he wanted anything in particular. Shiro shakes his head in reply while Adam tsks at him,

‘ _I hate forget-me-nots.’_

Lance nods to himself as he walks to the front, shear in hand, careful and intent as he takes the marigold ( _grief),_ heliotrope ( _devoted affection),_ and helenium ( _tears)._ The apron flutters when he rushes to the backroom and arranges them with a few more side plants, wet cotton under the stems, wraps them all up in dark blues and black. (he hesitates once, staring at the black roses at the back, wondering if he should add them. Finally decides that no, they look fine just like this.)

 _‘Hmmmm, not bad,_ ’ Lance couldn’t help snickering to himself at that. Suddenly Adams the florist now?

Adam smirks at him, as Shiro leaves the shop. Lance sees mischief in his eyes but Adams a ghost, and ghosts always get so bored in their afterlife, so he forgets about it soon after the bell stops tinkling.

The next Friday, he sees pale hair coming in, and smells fire again in his shop. Shiro’s smile is still a little tight in its edges but this time, he asks for a single black rose.

-

-

-Second Occupants-

In truth, he’d planned to be a musician once he was over twenty. He remembers being eleven, too hungry compared to all the other kids, loud in a way he never really says anything worth listening to, and dreams cradled in his hands as big as the universe. The distant memory sees him standing over the music store where the neighbourhood turned a little better than the one he came from. His ratty sneakers scraping the too clean pavement, his breath fogging up the glass, his eyes widened in wonderment at the huge black piano on display.

“Heyyy there kid, see something you like?”

Lance has seen her sometimes, the store owner has bright, sparkling blue eyes and a high ponytail. She’s always flitting from place to place, hands probing, head tilting. A dancer among the violins, a fox between trees. He looks down at his feet, thinking about the ten dollars he saved up for this week, about his mother’s tired eyes and relentless hands, cooking for everyone, smiling at him.

He shakes his head and smiles at Miss Ezor, “It’s nothing Ma’am, just looking around.”

She hums and there’s those long probing fingers at her chin now, brows furrowed in contemplation before she grins and flicks his nose (she gets an incredulous look for that), “Well now dearie, why don’t you ‘look around’ inside instead?”

Half an hour later he’s smiling as wide as the sun, and his hands stroke the strings of a guitar with long awaited wonderment. Zethrid, (Miss Ezor’s partner-in-life, as his father like to call it, but he supposes the better term for it is _girlfriend._ His face heats up whenever he thinks about it like that though, so he calls her Miss Ezor’s partner and Miss Zethrid would always laugh at him fondly for that) is an intimidating woman at first but he soon warms up to her once she shows him how to hold the violin properly.

And after, when he doesn’t have anything to do at home, or at school, (this is sadly few and far between. Too many siblings to take care of, too many favours to fulfil) he barges in the music store with a loud greeting and a surprised glee whenever Zethrid decides to lift him up off the floor just for the sake of it. He loves the place (where he’d offered to work part-time but was immediately shot down with a scoff from Ezor), them (who tolerates him for some reason, who lets him ask questions upon questions and always let him play the instruments when he’s too shy to ask for it himself), these memories. Its something he holds close to his heart, especially considering what happens next.

They say it’s a gas leak, but he grows up and he searches about it and its clearly fishy because another report says that its an electrical malfunction. Two lies and a hidden truth. Except, its _not_ hidden because he also remembers his heart hammering in his chest, the smoke making his throat close up, the police tapes over the area, how no one was crying or sad or- or- how the only thing he hears are the whispers of the ever growing crowd, the lights from the firefighters and ambulance but he sees no one being taken in.

Recalls the feeling of heavy relief when he sees Miss Ezor and Miss Zethrid behind the burning remnant of a building but no, its wrong, its all _wrong._ Ezor is crying, wailing, echoing through the air bordering on a desperate scream, rough sobs that shakes her back, while Zethrid tucks her head under her chin, face full of anguish.

‘ _I- We- fuck we didn’t do anything wrong Zeth! We did **nothing wrong-** ‘_

And their clothes are burnt, he notices this now, the smell of burning flesh in the air, and the. The jagged glass sticking out of Miss Zethrid’s neck.

 _Oh._ He thinks. And tries not to cry when he walks closer.

“…. Miss Ezor?” it’s a timid little whisper, but it might have been a deafening roar for all he knew. Somehow the wind stops blowing for a moment, and he holds his breath. They both look at him with shock. Its Zethrid who speaks up first, voice shaking and tentative. The blood leaking down her neck is black.

_‘L-lance? You can- you,’_

Even more surprisingly, the sudden hysterical laugh pulled out from Ezor, her eyes are wild when she looks at him,

 _‘Always knew you were special kid. Always knew you’d be something more. Thought I’d- thought- ‘_ she chokes and yeah. Yeah there’s a piece of metal rebar in her chest, ‘ _wanted to teach you, wanted to- to- thought I’d live and wait to- fuck, god! I knew you were special, and I wanted to fucking live, fuck- I- ‘_

He’s seen these kinds of ghosts before. Newly turned and halfway crazy, sorrowful and dangerous. And he sees it now, even when Zethrid tries to shush her and sooth her to silence, she cries and cries until it turns into curses and random gibberish.

Lance wants to cry too, wants to break down and clutch his sheets at home and sob about lost dreams and dead people but he steels his heart and asks Miss Zethrid a question he was never brave enough to ask the other ghosts.

“Who did it?”

-

He wasn’t invited to their funeral, but he sneaks in anyway. No one looks at him twice, a thin boy with dirtied clothes and downturned eyes, must be one of those unfortunate kids looking for pity. As the flurry of black umbrellas leaves the clearing, Lance sits there still. Lets the rain run down his skin and whispers a lost tune he’d learned from his time in the music store.

Suddenly the rain stops flowing in his hair, he lifts his head up and sees a different umbrella above him now. Its purple. The woman above him has serious eyes and a strong jaw. She sighs and says,

“Hi. Are you Lance by any chance?”

He pauses before nodding back. He doesn’t really know what he should do, if he runs, he’d trip, if he stays this woman might just take him away for trespassing. So, he stares blankly at her instead and tries to swallow down the fear creeping in him.

Another woman comes into view now, her eyes are covered by round purple sunglasses and with her, a black cat slinks beside her legs, eyes yellow and glowing. The fear in him slowly turns to excitement, for _of course_ they’re witches. Come to take him away from this horrible nightmare.

The woman with the sun glasses gestures something to the other, and she huffs in annoyance,

“I’m being _scary_? Narti come on this isn’t the time to be _nice,”_ a few more gestures and an added meow from the cat. She clicks her tongue in defeat, “Fine. We’ll do it your way.”

She crouches down to Lance level, her hair covering one of her eyes.

“Look kid, I. _We_ know you were close to Ezor and Zethrid. Now I know what you’re thinking so I’m just going to say that no, I’m not child services, not the police, not an investigator. I’m their _friend_ and I don’t believe for a second that this was an accident, do you understand?”

And he does. _He does_ , it’s always the same story whenever he goes outside his house. So, he licks his lips and gulps down on a dry throat and he says,

“It wasn’t an accident.”

And he tells her about Mr. Jameson who lives a few blocks over. Who goes to church every Sunday with his wife and son but who doesn’t bother to hide his hatred for the new, what he regards as the _abnormal,_ (Lance and his family go to church on Sundays too, but he’d never once saw Mr. Jameson shake his father’s hand) Lance tells Axca, as she introduced herself later on, about the son and her face hardens as he goes on. How his son had always been a little too proud, mean, stupid in a way that hurts people. He tells her what Zethrid told him; that his son might have planned to only thrash their store alone without them in it because they were planning to leave for the day but had come back because Ezor had left her car keys.

His voice breaks at the end, Axca is glaring at the grass by their feet. The cat hisses when he starts to sob into the lapel of Axca’s suit.

“Thanks kid, you’ve done a lot for them.”

They leave him there, rubbing his eyes with the sleeves of his shirt.

The next day he goes to school in a different road and never visits that side of the town ever again.

-

He breathes in, breathes out.

Refills his watering can and smiles to himself when he hears quiet giggling near his blue violets, then, a steady, melodic tune.

Like two angels singing in harmony, and in love.

-

-

Lance is honestly ever really busy in the weekends, though he closes shop earlier on Sundays, they’re just to make time for him to do deliveries or arrange wreaths or bouquets for special events. So, he’s actually very surprised to see Shiro now on a busy Saturday, smiling up at him tentatively, his usual black Henley changed into a white T-shirt and black jeans.

“Shiro?” he squints, “Didn’t you just come here yesterday or was that your evil twin brother?”

And he grins, ( _grins_ what the fuck? Is there something in the air today?) shrugs and smirks at Lance, “How do you know I’m not the evil twin brother?”

And oh no. No no no, where is the sad tragic hero? Where is that small tight smile? Lance feels like the world is ending now, Shiro is dishing out _lame jokes._ Um. He quirks his lips, tries to see if he can push this any further before everything collapses, (he has no self-preservation whatsoever),

“Hey so why are you really here? Besides wanting to see me of course,” and he throws in a finger-gun out of instinct. Yeah. Shut up.

Adam howls at him in laughter though, ‘ _Boiiii you smooth as sandpaper oh my fucking god- ‘_

But Shiro _winks_ at him and- and, _what?_

 _‘Oof. Bold move, wait till he starts giving out the dad jokes now, he’s on a fucking roll,’_ Lance _really_ needs no audience now, so he nearly bangs the counter twice to tell him to go away but Adam just snorts at him,

_‘Are you kidding me? This idiot is finally making the first move and its fucking hilarious,’_

And holy shit, the thing is this; it’s been three months and a week since Shiro had gone to his flower shop every Friday and where he, as Lance finds out and long since surmised, visits Adam grave right after.

Shiro doesn’t have a clue about flowers actually, he says this to Lance after the third Friday. ‘ _I don’t really get how it matters, they’re dying anyway, why would you give that to anyone?’_ murmured so quietly in a rainy afternoon, Lance hums before replying, afraid that his opinion is unwanted but he’s honest too and Shiro looks like he needs it, so he says,

‘ _They’re very beautiful though, aren’t they? A beauty that lasts for moments. Don’t you think that’s what makes them so precious?’_

Shiro is silent, after that, and Lance had wilted a little, thinking that he’d overstep. He comes back the next Friday though. And amazingly, they started talking a little more.

Its amazing because Lance will talk and talk, rant about the corrupt system of America, complain about the new chef at his favourite pizzeria, croon about his flowers and wail at himself and he waits for Shiro to snap, to say ‘ _that’s it I’m done,’_ and finally go away but he stays and he smiles at Lance and Lance- Lance doesn’t really know what to do about that. So, as each Friday goes by, he stops waiting for Shiro to leave and waits for him to smile instead.

Waits for him to blink and laugh like its something startling, for him to lace his hands together and ask him random questions about his shop, waits, a little apprehensively, for him to talk about his time in the military (never about the deaths and despair, Lance grins and asks him of secret trysts and dumb funny accidents,), about his new job as a lecturer, the students and the pranks, the colleagues and the tyrants.

Of course, it goes without asking that Lance starts talking about things that really matter, the family at home million miles away from here, the best friend who works in the bakery, Allura and Keith. They both laugh at that actually. Lance crows in delight as he hoards a thousand blackmail material from Shiro’s recounting of Keith’s emo MCR phase in high school.

He’s beaming when he tells Shiro about Allura’s business and how she’s managing it now with the Holts, and Shiro is laughing again when he tells Lance about the shit he used to do with Matt Holt when they were both in college.

They never talk about the dead boyfriend. (Adam stands back in the background, where the lily of the valley sits in the cool, damp corner. He rubs his hands together and smiles to himself. It’s a little creepy actually, like some Disney villain who’d just succeeded in world domination. Lance swears sometimes he sees Adam lifting his broken glasses with his forefinger up his nose and hears a quiet mutter, ‘ _…. according to plan….)_

Except that’s then, and this is now. Shiro’s prosthetic glints at the sunlight, silver highlighting its features. His shy smile shines even brighter than that.

“So, uh,” Lance holds his breath, the shop bustles in the background, his flowers sway in anticipation. Adam is gleeful as he hisses, ‘ _Say itttt sayyyy itttt- ‘_

“I’ve been thinking about it you know? About what you said, about beauty and precious moments and maybe I’m not that ready but, if you want, I’d like to take it slow and, like if you want,”

‘ _Get to the fucking point already you fool! ‘_

Lance is so, so close to shushing Adam right now but his head is currently just burst of static with random words like, ‘ _ready?’,_ or ‘ _I want?’_ and a very panicked, ‘ _thinking??’_ getting out, so he just gapes at Shiro in stunned silence while he continues,

“Do you want to maybe…. have coffee sometime?”

Rachel is the one who breaks the long silence first (well, to Lance anyway), she giggles, laughs loudly and twists the radio where suddenly, ‘ _Come and get your love’_ plays to his mortification.

Shiro is _there_ though, in the flesh and _real._ Looking at him expectantly like he fears rejection and wow he’d been asking a lot of people on dates, but no one had really asked _him_. The smile he feels creeping up his face is so wide his cheeks hurt, he looks back at Shiro and says softly,

“Sure.”

 

After Lance was done with his orders, he closes shop a little earlier and they visit the café downtown where Romelle smiles at him impishly behind the counter. They take a corner beside the window where the plant gives a shade for them from the sunlight. Lance talks, Shiro smiles.

When they leave their hands are linked together, and when they part ways it lingers for a second too long.

-

That night, Lance is a bubbly, giggling mess in his shower. He almost slips on the wet floor, but he laughs harder at that and pretends his shampoo is a mike while he belts out Beyoncé to the echoing laugh of Rachel from his bedroom (he has _boundaries_ okay). Lance is lightheaded, a little silly with the adrenaline of a crush in his chest.

‘ _This isn’t going to last long,’_

A stray thought in the dark recesses of his mind, he pushes it away a second after he remembers the way Shiro had looked at him. Like he was something different, something worthwhile. Lance hums and washes the shampoo off his hair. Daydreams a little more, thinking of red roses and myrtles, the chances of a I-really-think-I-can-fall-in-love-with-you bouquet.

It’s when he’s turning down the hot water where he sees the dark red, red trail of water sinking down the drain. He blinks. Turns the water on again, and there it is, blood flowing down from between his legs to the floor below. He hears a faint ringing outside, he squints and-

‘ _Woah nice legs man,’_

Lance _shrieks_ before he screams, enraged and terrified all at once,

“ _Adam what the FUCK get the fuck OUT!”_ he scrambles to the side, throwing anything within arms-reach to Adam while he babbles, “Seriously what the fuck man?! I made _boundaries_ , get out, _get out- “_

Adam retreats swiftly, cackling all the way out the window.

-

The next morning Shiro wakes up to a very messy bed and an embarrassed low groan. He takes a cold shower before he burns the bedsheets outside the house. Adam snickers while he gazes at the smoke climbing the sky,

‘ _You weak fucking bitch, ‘_

_-_

_-_

Several things checked out when Keith gets the text message from Shiro that Tuesday. Firstly, its game-night and somehow, both of them are actually free for it (where they usually skip because Shiro has papers to go over and he has extra shifts in the gym for practice). Second, the fact that they’ve already had lunch together the day before and third…. there are _two_ smileys attached to the message. Something was clearly going on and it doesn’t take that long for him to figure out what it is.

He says yes anyway, and grumbles about the receding Cheetos in his snack cupboard.

Shiro comes by exactly at eight, all smiles and convincing Cheetos bribery in his arms. Keith grunts, grabs the snacks and mutters a, “Get inside, you’re bringing the cold air in.”

He walks to the kitchen to get the hot water going as Shiro settles on the couch. A high whine starts in somewhere around the corner before a big black blur rushes past and pounces on him. Shiro blinks in surprise, “Keith? Wha- “

“That’s Kosmo.”

He places the two cups on the table, clicks his tongue at Kosmo. The dog- Oh no, that’s a wolf Shiro realises, no dog has eyes like that. Keith rubs the back of Kosmo’s ear while the wolf thumps his tail down in content.

“Kosmo?”

“Yeah,”

And well, he doesn’t want to _assume_ but its right there and, well, he sighs.

“Lance?”

“…. yeah.” that second one is a little quieter than the first, he quickly tries to do damage control. Shiro opens his mouth to reply but Keith shrugs and continues anyway,

“He’d thought it was funny, and it’s kinda stuck now.” Keith narrows his eyes somewhere on the floor, “Less funny when he tried to give Kosmo twinkies but well, that’s Lance for you.”

His features are softer now, as Shiro realises again that the Keith he came back to after his time in the military has hardened and soften at the same time, has experienced things much more than when he was a little teenager hating everything the world throws at him. He wonders now, if that was because of the flower shop a little over thirty feet from Keith’s apartment.

Half an hour later, while Keith struggles to place Kosmo in a comfortable position and get Shiro to move out of the middle of the sofa (‘That’s _my_ spot), they turn on the tv and start to play Mario-kart.

They talk about anything that comes to mind; about Keith’s mom coaching him, the weather, Kolivan the boxer who’s obviously has the hots for Keith’s mom, the…. flower shop.

“Been getting your flowers from there huh,”

Keith squints at the screen, Shiro takes a little while to say anything back.

“Yeah…. about that,”

Keith munches on a Cheeto puff, grunts when Kosmo accidentally kicks his arm in their sleep.

“So, is this the part where you tell me you want to bang my ex-boyfriend?”

Another long, drawn out silence, Keith wins the game. He’s a bit unnerved to find Shiro smiling something dopey at the game over screen, so he frowns and starts the game again.

And well, he _knows_ Shiro knows. Hadn’t told anyone right after the break-up but had listened and calmed down and _finally_ stopped running and started looking. He’d told Shiro about it when he’d finally made peace and its _fine_ because they’re friends now, closer than ever but never being anything more. Its nothing tragic or saddening, it’s a dawning inevitable reality, (though he wonders sometimes, what they could be if he hadn’t run away like that). It’s the reason why Keith isn’t particularly bothered when Shiro says fondly,

“He’s a little clumsy. And he talks to himself a lot.”

“……yeah. Himself.”

“I told him about you in high school, sorry.” There’s a guilty note in his tone, Keith waves it off.

“You talk like I don’t have thousands more blackmail material on him. Shiro, college Lance was _out of control,”_ and they both laugh at that. ‘ _This is nice.’_ He thinks, as he tells Shiro about the countless secrets Hunk had spilled to him about Lance when they were still dating. About how he doesn’t feel like dating anyone really, and that just maybe he is just enough for now.

Before he closes the door at Shiro’s face, Keith finally smiles at him and say,

“He really likes garlic knots,” a slight pause, “and _don’t_ run away.” then he slams door.

-

-

-Third Occupant-

Keith doesn’t go to the gym the next day. He gets up at six, showers, has breakfast, feeds Kosmo and goes out to the park. Kosmo doesn’t actually need a leash, but people gets scared if he doesn’t put one on him, so he tucks it on securely even when the wolf whines in protest (honestly, he himself don’t really get where the problem here is. If he bites, he bites, tough luck).

After the park, he turns and thinks about the wilting daffodils in his living room. It’s a split-second decision but well, the Larkspurs are still here even when summer has ended.

‘ _Lightness,’_ Lance had smiled at him then, curled his long fingers around his wrist and tapped the edges of his eye, ‘ _you need a little more of that grumpy,’_ he’d raised his eyebrows at that, and said dryly, ‘ _yeah, love it when you talk dirty to me like that.’_ A laugh and the rustle of bed sheets, ‘ _Delphinium consolida, smells hella great and signifies great affection- ‘,_ he’d groaned, and stuffed his face in his pillow. One am was way too early to talk about this, god he’s surprised he lasted that long. Lance grinned and doesn’t stop even when he gets an annoyed glare, _’-and had always conveyed the message: ‘what a joy and a pleasure it is to know you,’_

Messages are nothing without real context. Now, he sees it as more of a farewell.

The bell tinkles as he pushes the door, Kosmo lets out a low bark before bounding in and attacking Lance with all his slobbering affection, “ _Kosmo?_ Oh my god my baby!” a high-pitched sound from somewhere behind the pink roses, he rounds the corner when he hears another bark. Smirks as he sees Lance sprawled under Kosmo, dirty apron and hair in disarray. Kosmo pants a hot breath at his face before licking a long stripe from his eyes to chin, “ _Urgh_ okay no _stop_ you’re ruining my eyeliner come on,”

Keith clicks his tongue and Kosmo sits up, thumps his tail, turns to him with a questioning look. Actually, they’re _both_ looking at him now, why did he come here? He narrows his eyes; his jaw feels stiff. He decides to get right down to it,

“You know about Adam.”

Lance pretends to be surprised but he sounds a bit miffed when he replies, “ _Wow_ , I don’t know Keith my bro- “

He glares at Lance.

“No? My _dude_? My pretty petal?”

“ _Lance.”_

 _“_ Yeah yeah okay. You need to tie your hair, _and_ your attitude in place damn man not even a ‘ _Hey Lance haven’t seen you since last week!’_ or I don’t know, how about a, ‘ _Wow Lance you’re so amazing thanks for the flowers last time!’_

Keith sighs, shifts to the side a little and softens his tone, “Thanks. Wanted the Larkspurs now actually.”

Lance stands up, leaning a little to pet Kosmo as he smiles back, “Yeah? I was gonna give it to you anyway, they’re in the backroom. In fact, why don’t we talk there now,”

He follows Lance as he shuffles through the upended pots and sacks of soil. It’s not everyday he gets to see the backroom, he’s positive the last time he was here he was panicking and nearly punched Lance in the fa-

“Alright!” Lance sits down on one of the stools, pats the one next to him, “So. Ghost talk. What’cha wanna know my man?”

Except, that’s not entirely it, was it? Keith _hates_ ghost talk, he doesn’t want to know anything if he can help it. It makes his stomach turn and hands shake but he _has_ to, this time. Someone is going to get hurt and he can see it from a mile away, a train wreck just waiting to happen.

“You know about Adam.” He says again. Lance nods slowly at him,

“Yeeess, guy’s _hot_ like literally and in the sense that I’d totally talk him up if he’s still, you know, breathing and all. He always comes here with Shiro- and yeah! I’m seeing Shiro in case he hasn’t told you that already, but I think you’ve guessed anyway, or Hunk told you but- “

He shakes his head, he doesn’t notice his hands trembling on his lap, but his voice is strained when he tunes Lances voice out and grits his teeth together,

“This is bad.”

 Keith takes his abrupt silence as understanding.

And fuck, _fuck_ , he hates doing this too but the last thing he wants is to see Lance cry again, so he ploughs on, “ _Lance,_ he just came out of the damn _army_ if he finds out, if he knows.” He clenches his fist, “you _know_ it’s not going to end well.”

That scared, stifling silence again.

“And, and I know it’s hard but _damn it_ I don’t want either of you to get _hurt- “_

“Hey hey hey,” he calms down a little, when he feels cool smooth skin on his hands, when Lance shushes him and says, “It’s fine, its alright. I know this still freaks you out man and I- I know this might. Not work out,” Keith groans and looks down, feels like the biggest asshole in the _universe, “_ But Adam isn’t really out to get me, and maybe if I wait a little, he’ll understand? I don’t want to lose this.” Lances hand is cold and clammy, he sighs, “I don’t want to lose him.”

Keith stays silent for a while before he shakes his head and stands up. Cosmo immediately starts nosing at his legs while Keith looks at Lance in the eye,

“Tell him.”

Lance blinks, gapes and sputters,

“Wait, what- “

“ _Tell him.”_

“Hey man you just _told me_ it was a ba- “

“Yeah, no. I want this to work too Lance, that’s why I’m telling you to _tell him,”_

Lance is scowling now, he’s standing up too, fist clenched at the side,

“I don’t know Keith, I thought it’s better to have a little more _patience- “_

“ _Lance,_ damn it, half of the reason I was so angry that time was because I didn’t know about it _earlier_ , “

He frowns at Keith, whispers, “And the other half?”

“…. was because I wished I didn’t know at all.”

Lance barks a laugh at that, tired and exasperated, “Yeah, _yeah._ So _of course,_ I tell him now, not like he’d regret it right? Not like he wished he’d never _met me- “_

There’s this constant loud ringing inside his head, it’s infuriating, growing louder and louder, makes the walls shake, his ears hurt. Keith doesn’t even realise he’s shouting,

“ _I never thought that!”_

They’re both breathing heavily now, Kosmo whining quietly at his feet. Lance bites his lip, he looks down before facing Keith again.

“Keith, _Keith._ I don’t wanna fight.”

“…. Okay.” he looks away, and sighs, “Think about it okay?”

He thinks it’s the yarrows, that Lance is staring at, that makes him close his eyes and nod silently. Keith still remembers what he’d said about those, the yarrow, _Achillea millefolium,_

_‘A cure for a broken heart.’_

_-_

It’s somewhere buried deep inside the things he never ever wants to remember but it’s a little hard when he sees Keith’s dad floating around and not-so subtly spying them through the forget-me-nots. So, he sits back and closes his eyes.

It goes like this;

A building doesn’t collapse from the earthquake alone. It breaks a little easier, if its already crumbling. Lance realises this when he hears Keith confess to him about how he wished he can see his dad again. It’s a near creeping thing that he ignores time and time again as Keith tells him that his mom came back because she thought he was with his dad and that he’s so _relieved._

And that death is real and permanent because he’d _seen_ what’s left of them. A sad imitation of life, a reminder walking on two legs.

So, he keeps quiet, even as he sees the hollowed cheeks and the bones sticking out from Keith’s father.

_“I wish he’d come back.”_

A whisper in the dead of night, Lance smiles and soothes but he fears at the same time, so the silence lasts longer until it finally _snaps_. Crashes down around them and he’s left there with the broken pieces.

‘ _He’s dead, he’s fucking dead and all this fucking time you could’ve fucking told me, ‘_

_‘Keith come on I didn’t want to- “_

_“Didn’t want to what? I don’t- why didn’t you- Lance!”_

_“Shut up! I know you’re scared and confused right now but you have to listen- “_

_“I don’t- fuck!”_

_“Keith wait, stop, please I can explain,”_

_“I- fuck- I can’t, I can’t,”_

_“Calm down- “_

_“I can’t!”_

The sound of the bell ringing is like a death toll. He sinks down to the floor, heart sore and breath shaking. Its only when he looks at his reflection in the windows, does he realise he’s crying.

-

-

‘ _You can still see even if it’s in video?’_

Lance hovers over the play button of the YouTube video, tilts his head to the side,

“Weeeell nah not really, but see here? I can definitely tell those ghosts are trolling these guys,”

‘ _Yeah, I can see it, so. Ignore the one looking for you but mess around with innocent people?’_

“Hey, I’m not the dead one here Adam,”

_‘……yeah, I don’t get it. I’d probably sock them in the head.’_

Lance laughs, “Oh man what I’d pay to see that! You think I could work at BuzzFeed?”

‘ _You’d be too convincing for anyone to actually believe you; besides you hate seeing dead people.’_

It’s night time now, he’s sprawled on his bed and he still doesn’t know why Adam isn’t with Shiro right now but suddenly he really wants him to go away. A cold breeze sneaks up to him by his open window. He shivers,

“I’d probably settle on seeing less of you guys yeah,” his throat feels thick, he hangs his head to the side, “…. sorry,”

Adam snorts at him though, ‘ _For what? It’s not your fault I’m dead.’_ He glares at the wall, Lance’s bedside lamp flickers a little,

‘ _Stupid orders and aircraft malfunctions, that’s what killed me. I’ll forever be defined as that guy-who-died-too-soon, or oh-they-could’ve-been-together shmuck nah this isn’t what I imagined when they say you die for your country- what has this shit fucking place ever done for me? My mother cries for me day and night, my father wastes away drinking. I should have never come here, at least at home people know my last fucking name- ‘_

The moon is hidden tonight, the clouds have started to gather. It’ll rain soon, so Lance stays quiet, walks over to close the window before he goes back to bed.

“Wanna talk about it?”

‘ _No.’_

“Alright.”

Then,

‘ _I broke up with him an hour immediately before I died in my plane.’_

Lance chokes on a breath but Adam goes on anyway,

‘ _That’s a month before the car accident that took his arm but that’s not my part to tell. I’ll tell you about before and my side of this shit stupid story.’_

“Adam…. you don’t have to- “

‘ _Shut up. I want to. I’m sure you know how it goes; he wants to go on a special mission, I hate him for going, but has anyone told you why? I was scared. That was it, the only fucking reason. Fear big enough to pull him back, terrified for me and him both that I started hating it. But of course, that’s nothing new for you right?’_

Lance tries to throw a pillow at him, but it only passes through. Adam laughs.

“Oh fuck off man!”

‘ _Yeah okay that was too mean even for me, sorry kid. Anyway, I told him I won’t wait for him, and he goes away except, there wasn’t any choice in the matter anyway. I die, and I didn’t even have the chance to throw shades on the guy.’_

 _“_ Truly, such a profound loss.”

‘ _You have no idea.’_

Something is thumping in the ceiling, outside, the rain turns heavier. He might have to close shop tomorrow, it feels like there’s going to be a storm.

“When did he know about the crash?”

‘ _A week after he returned from the mission.’_

Lance turns his laptop off and snuggles in his blanket. He hopes it won’t get too cold.

‘ _Are you scared?’_

“I’m scared he will be.”

And finally, he sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics of dramaturgy was taken from jubyphonic's cover of it but eve's original one sounds just as good!  
> These are the list of flowers and their symbolic meaning mentioned in this chap taken from The language of flowers a miscellany by Mandy Kirby and some of them are admittedly from the internet ahah,  
> Bluebell – constancy  
> Hyacinth – constancy  
> Tulip – declaration of love  
> Yellow carnation – disdain  
> Lily – majesty  
> Olive flower – peace  
> Oxlip – confidence  
> Lavender – mistrust  
> Green carnation – hints at homosexuality (https://www.oscarwildetours.com/about-our-symbol-the-green-carnation/)  
> Lilac – first emotions of love  
> White rose – a heart unacquainted with love  
> Black rose – bereavement, loss and mortality (http://roseforlove.com/the-meanings-of-black-roses-ezp-38)  
> Forget-me-not – forget me not  
> Marigold – grief  
> Heliotrope – devoted affection  
> Helenium – tears  
> Blue violet – spirituality/ "lesbian flower" because in the early 1900s, lesbian women would give violets to the women they were wooing. This symbolized their "Sapphic" desire, so called because Sappho, a Greek lyric poet, in one of her poems described herself and her lover as wearing garlands of violets. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Viola_sororia)  
> Lilly of the valley – return of happiness  
> Red rose – love  
> Myrtle – love  
> Daffodil – new beginnings  
> Larkspur – lightness  
> Pink rose – grace  
> Yarrow – cure for a broken heart
> 
> and as always kudos and comments are highly appreciated!!


	2. Chamomile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :')

_Burn away your unfulfilled wishes,_

_Burn away your unrealized dreams,_

_Burn away your fruitless resentment,_

_Burn away the nights that never fully died,_

_Even though there's no such thing as ''absolute'', we made up a word for it,_

_Why are we always keeping an eye out for what our neighbours might do?_

_When we sink our inferior complexes and self-loathing down to the bottom, they become songs,_

_So to the people who can't quite die: go on and sing!_

_-Living Dead [Amazarashi]-_

_\---_

-Fourth Occupants-

Lance had given it a lot of thought and preparation. It’s not going to be at Valentines because she’s always busy that time, not at spring where all she needs him for are the lilies. It’s somewhere in summer where he patiently takes care of each and every one of his flowers from the sweltering heat and contemplates about the perfect bouquet he’ll give to Allura to finally confess his love.

His heart swells with excitement and hopeful dreams when he arranges them in his backroom. This tender love cradled for so long, something he wishes to see come true even if Allura probably deserves someone much better than him. _The First Romance_ or _The Passionate Bouquet_? He giggles a little childishly when he thinks of the possibilities, (And he was, like a child then. Knows about crushes and want but less about lost love and inevitability).

He runs his hands over the lilacs, white rose, and sweet peas, ( _first emotions of love, a heart unacquainted with love_ and _delicate pleasures_. He was so, so naïve then. It’s fine, soon he’ll learn that his dreams won’t ever turn out like he wants it to,) He ignores the pout Rachel gives him when he tells her not to tamper with the radio today, hopes that Alfor won’t put up much of a fuss as he stashes the bouquet under the counter and waits for her.

Waits, and waits. And waits a little more. When he’s composed the fourth lyric to his love ballad, he’d been thinking about the doorbell finally rings and he immediately perks up.

She comes in bright and smiling, her usual white suit and her hair illuminating the sunlight. He beams at her, opens his mouth for a greeting and stops short. A man follows behind her, handsome and a little sly. Long, long pale hair tied down, a sharp jawline, a black suit.

They’re holding hands.

His hand falters, that little ache in his chest isn’t quite sinking, no, it’s crashing down. Allura introduces the man to him she tells him, ‘ _Lance, we’re planning the wedding next month!’_ , offers him a soft, fond smile as she says, ‘ _Your flowers have always been the most beautiful around here, we were just hoping you could lend us a help with the preparations,’._ It’s a little dramatic maybe, but he plans on burning the bouquet behind the shop tonight.

He plasters on his customary smile again, nods at the happy couple, (at Lotor where he thought he sees him flash a smirk full of white teeth and victory,). He says ‘ _Of course!’_ and ‘ _No worries!’_ when what he really wants to say is ‘ _What about me?’_ desperately, wretchedly, ‘ _Am I not beautiful?’_

Nevertheless, he takes them to the backroom where they discuss about how they want to decorate the flowers, what theme it’s going to be. Lance tries a bit to reign in his jealousy, but he lets out a teasing just because he can, (in which Lotor scowls and snaps back, _“_ It’s not blonde, its _platinum- “)_ but he gets a frown from Allura for that, so he promptly shuts up soon after. 

After they leave, Lance sits back down on the counter. Stares at nothing for a while. The radio turns on by itself, Queen crooning at him through the speakers. It’s a small, insignificant thing maybe. But as he tucks away the bouquet for remembrance, as he closes shop for the day and finally, as he lies down on his bed, he thinks he feels slightly dead then.

-

They come by again and again, as the wedding comes closer. And it’s fine, he thinks. He takes it all, the excitement, the kisses, and the worries. Even the small arguments, the confusion when Allura tells him about her small fear for the event, about the way Lotor hides things from her sometimes. _It’s fine_ , he thinks and tells her. “It’ll be just fine, Allura. Don’t worry!”

He’s used to this now; the dead whispers at his feet, the living speaks over his head. Lance smiles and hums, takes care of his flowers to perfection.

(There’s this small, small hole in his heart though. And every time he sees them smile and laugh, it grows gradually, black and bottomless, a thing that makes his chest hurt and eyes sting.)

-

The window shakes with the force of the storm outside when he gets the call from the police station. They tell him that they’re very sorry to call him in this weather, that there was an accident up in the highway leading to town, that his contact was the first one in besides her uncles name.

Lance slams the door to the shop open, not bothering to lock it, screams as high as his lungs can take for any taxi or cars brave enough to fight the harsh pelting wind and rain on the road to please, _please_ get him to the police station it’s an emergency _please._

And when he finally gets there, drenched, worried, and borderline panicking, Allura crushes him with her arms over his chest, her trembling back, her racking loud sobs. She’s speaking incoherently, jumbled words tumbling out that he can’t hear with the thunder and rain in the background, so he pulls her inside, gets a chair for her to sit down on and pushes hot tea to her hands he gets from one of the officers looking at them with pity. 

She has bruises on her arms and across her forehead, blood is trickling from her scalp, but she shakes her head when he stares at it and tells him its nothing serious. She pulls the blanket over her shoulders closer, her voice shakes as she starts,

“It was just a fight.”

Her fingers skitter over her face, covering them as she sobs out again, “It was _just a fight- “_

“He picked me up from work and I almost didn’t go with him because- because _god_ I know, _I know_ I’ve told you I didn’t care what he does I trust him, I love him, but I _saw_ him sneaking around my fathers old office and he says all this _bullshit_ about building companies together about- about inventions and _confidence_ and I just couldn’t anymore Lance.

He’s been pressuring my employees did you know that? He’s been manipulating them to leave me as he talks about _the greater good_ and _hopes and dreams_ but I got in the car with him anyway! Raining as hard as all hells and I thought it was a good idea to talk to him while he was driving and _fuck,_ we started shouting and I was so _angry_ wanted to- wanted to _push him off the car Lance god fuck what happened to me- “_

He shushes her, urges her to drink more, traces circles at her back. Stays quiet. Lightning flashes through the windows, so bright he thought he saw Allura’s eyes as blackened pits.

“We crashed. There was a lot of cars, so the ambulance came right away. I- I think my head, I’m not sure but when they brought me out, I think, I saw them. He was on a stretcher,”

“He’s in the hospital?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m sure now they- they had people seeing him, he’s going to be fine…”

“Yes,” Lance says, hugging her again as she tries to steady her breathing, as she holds on to him, “It’s going to be fine.” He tells her, “It’s going to be just fine.”

The sudden cold grasping on his shoulder isn’t from the stray wind outside, or the rain water still dripping from his clothes. The grip becomes tighter, and tighter, until he has to bite his lip from the pressure. Lotor smooths his long fingers down his neck then, when he stares at Lance his smile is too wide to be comforting, his neck is bent in an unnatural angle. He tightens his grip at Lances neck and he hisses,

‘ _Is it really?’_

_-_

A week after the funeral, he finds Lotor smirking at him behind the winter cherries. And Lance…. really has no mood to talk to him right now so he ignores Lotor and carries on with his work. It doesn’t matter anyway, Lotor pesters him day and night, like a bored child, or a pampered prince. He wished he could strangle him back really.

It’s when he makes a snide remark on Lances hair product that he finally snaps and breaks his vow of silence, glares at Lotor while he tries not to drop the shears in his hand,

“Can you- can you _get away_ man? Lay off my hair! And my moisturisers! I know you have all this _loreal Disney princess shit_ going on but I’m _perfectly_ comfortable with my soft. Fluffy. Hair!”

‘ _……I don’t use loreal you peasant,’_

“Argh!”

‘ _And your nail polish is chipping away already how do you even manage your life?’_

_“_ You know what, sometimes I ask the same thing myself. And don’t distract me asshole why the fuck are you here? I thought I was just a bug under your shoe or something,”

Lotor gives him a considering look, then it’s that shark smile again. His eyes flash with impending doom,

‘ _You amuse me.’_

_-_

The ghosts generally leave him alone once they figure out that he wants nothing to do with them, so except for the more personal attachments (Rachel) they never really stick around that much. Lotor proves to be an exception to this rule.

“Seriously man, _what do you want?”_

‘ _World domination, my mother’s love, power through peace, I’m not sure Lance take your pick,’_

“You know the first thing you should want is some personality check.”

He still doesn’t leave Lance, flits about the place making cutting remarks on his fashion choice and his boring, _boring_ life. It comes to a point until even Rachel is glaring daggers at him until, well, she pulls his hair and screams her head off.

_‘Get this vile thing off me!’_

Lance smirks at him, sips on his coffee, “Hmmm nah she looks like she’s having fun don’t you think?”

Rachel bites his hand when he tries to pull her arms away,

_‘For fucks sake!’_

“There are children present man!”

It’s more peaceful after that. Lotor mellows down into murmured insults and Lance snark at him back, so it kind of feels like a stalemate. He tells Lance about the conditioner he used to wear eventually, and Lance tries to ignore him but ends up buying it the next day. Lotor comments on the colour of his nails, he’s also starting to stare at the winter cherries too long. Lance has no idea what’s going on in his head. Lotor is unpredictable, dramatic, and a little snobbish. How do you really treat your crush’s dead fiancé anyway?

Lance is thinking about this, face down on his bed, just as Lotor turns to him and tilts his head. He isn’t smiling,

_‘You loved her, didn’t you?’_

He pretends not to listen to him for a moment but he sighs in the end,

“Yeah, I guess. did you?”

‘ _Of course.’_ he shifts a little to the side, ‘ _somehow._ ’

“She still visits your grave.”

_‘I know.’_

He floats by the window, his long hair a translucent curtain of silver starlight,

‘ _Why don’t you confess to her? She values you more than you think,_ ’

“I’m _not_ like you, is it me taking advantage of her or the other way around? I don’t care, and I honestly can’t care anymore. It’s better like this, if I do anything now….” He lets it hang, stares at the light from the lamp post outside. But its obvious to him and Lotor what wasn’t said.

‘ _If I do anything now, who’d break first?_ ’

Downstairs, the radio turns on again, and the keys of a piano drifts up to the room.

‘ _I think….it could’ve been you,_ ’

Lance holds his breath, Lotor isn’t looking at him anymore.

‘ _No, I think it should have been you._ ’

And when Lance finally sees his face, he understands with a stark realisation what he was really saying now. It’s there in the slight tilt of his lips, in the shine in his eyes. In the stray tear on his cheek. Lotor faces him and he says, ‘ _I could have loved you,_ ’ without saying anything at all.

Lance feels lost, stricken. He grits his teeth and shakes his head because of course, _of course_ the first person to confess to him is already fucking dead. His throat is thick, and he looks away from the window. He wants to say, ‘ _Me too_ ’, wants also to say ‘ _Bullshit_ ’ but what he ends up saying is a small, scared,

“Please leave.”

And he does.

-

The morning after, an hour before dusk, where Lance wakes up early from a difficult sleep, is when he meets Haggar at the door of his backroom. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at him. She smiles and plays with her fingers, an old broken wrinkled creature staring at her hands.

When he walks by her, he flinches as she mumbles about _lost chances_ and _death._

-

-

There’s a moment in a day, where he doesn’t feel like doing anything, or moving, or just looking. Where he closes his eyes and listen to himself breathe. ‘ _I am here, I am real, I am alive._ ’ He tells himself but the hole in his heart grows and grows and he feels his hands tremble from the force of it.

There’s a moment in his shop where he stares at Rachel and tries not to run away, but instead pulls his guitar and sings lowly to her and she’ll hum along with him. Sometimes when he can’t sleep, he traces the bloated lines of her neck and the whites of her eyes. She smiles at him back.

There’s a moment after the sun sinks where it’s hard to breathe and he gulps down on dry air and tries not to grip the thorns of his roses too hard. He clutches the edges of his apron and thinks, ‘ _What am I really doing?_ ’ He dreams about starlight hair and soft smiles and when he wakes up, he shakes and shiver in the darkness of his bedroom because _Shiro_. God, Shiro has _heaven_ in his fingertips while Lance is _six feet deep_ underground. He has a smile undeterred by what he went through while Lance smiles so easily it feels like a facsimile of the real thing.

There’s a moment before he gets up from bed, where he feels like he’s going to cry. He doesn’t, in the end. After all, you can’t really cry when you’re already underwater.

-

-

“And it’s total freaking _bullshit_ you know, because you can’t just throw flowers at your girlfriend and expect her to kiss and make up with you like-” Lance stops to take a breath, inhales some of the cookies and almost chokes when Shiro smiles, and brushes some of the crumbs off his cheeks with his thumb. There’s a flushed pause before he clears his throat and they start walking again,

“Oh, hmmm, thanks. _Anyway,_ as I was saying, guys come to my shop thinking I’m on their side on every fucking single relationship advice when in reality, _no_ , they mean _shit,_ they _are_ shit. And trash too, and well, that’s-”

Lance’s very passionate rant about trash and men is very rudely interrupted when someone accidentally shoves his shoulder and nearly sends his drink spilling on the sidewalk.

“And- _hey that’s-_ ”

The stranger stops too, stares at Lance. Backs up and stares at Shiro too, at the bag of cookies at Shiro’s hand, and the tea Lance is clutching. Lance gapes and his eyes widen in disbelief.

“ _Veronica?_ ”

Shiro blinks, he looks at Lance questioningly. Lance is still staring at the woman now staring back at him with a slight frown,

“My sister….”

There’s a huge awkward silence after that, the distant chatter around them recedes, the slight traffic at the road is just white noise. Lance mutters, “And that’s….”

Shiro shakes his head, “That’s…”

Adam grins, ‘ _That’s…._ ’

“That’s the _fucking tea sis!_ ”

Lance laughs loud enough for it to be a howl, he has tears in his eyes, shakes so much until he’s holding his stomach and hitting the pavement with his fist, gasping for breath. Shiro tries to hide it by covering his mouth but he crouches down and his back trembles with the effort to hold back his giggle.

Veronica, all classy brown coat, sharp glasses and red high heels, looks down at them with an unimpressed gaze, and when Lance finally starts breathing again, she raises her eyebrows at him,

“You didn’t get my call.”

-

Lances sister has his chin, and his soft brown skin. She doesn’t have his loud voice though, or his curling lips. When Shiro sees them together, it’s a bittersweet thing that he can’t quite put his finger on. Lances eyes lights up but the hesitant way his hands tries to reach for Veronica says something else. And the sister, she looks at Lance with fondness, but he spies the way she never looks at him too long for it to be something hidden, shifted to the side.

It’s not his problem though, maybe it’s just family.

They chat about things at home, names and places that goes over his head as soon as its excitedly let out, (he hopes days and months after this, if Lance will still be with him, that he’d know all these people, this home that brings a shine to his eyes, he hopes that Lance would stay long enough to see his,) and as they turn around the corner and reach the flower shop Lance curses when he gets a call from one of his customers, mumbles out an excuses and rushes in the shop loudly complaining to Coran on his phone about flower preparations. (Shiro admits that he stares a little too long at Lance’s hair ruffled in the wind. He wants to run his hands through them.)

Veronica is staring at him now though, she narrows her eyes at him, taps her foot.

“You’re the new boyfriend.”

He clears his throat, tries for a polite smile,

“Yes, I’m-”

She shakes her head and walks past him. The bell rings and she waits for him to follow her inside,

“Shiro, I know. He talks about you a lot.”

Oh.

“Really?”

And there it is, looks like she does have that Lance grin,

“No need to sound so surprised,” she smirks, looks at him up and down before shrugging, “I get how he’s a little overwhelmed now.”

Before he can reply she leads them up to the stairs, and he pauses at this. He’s never actually been upstairs, dating for days but the only close proximity they had was holding hands and cheek kisses for goodbyes. They’ve never been in _in_ , this was another level of personal space he thought he’ll get to see once Lance was ready. (But who is he kidding really? _He_ wasn’t the one waiting in this relationship.)

He falters, but Veronica side eyes him again before sighing,

“I know him Shiro, he won’t be with us until Coran lets him go. So meanwhile, why don’t you make me tea while I try my hand on that shovel talk thing eh?”

He follows her up the stairs.

The kitchen is quaint, the curtains at the small windows translucent and sea blue. There are shells pasted on some of the cupboards, and the fridge has scribbled papers, colourful sticky notes and pressed flowers and leaves stuck on it. Shiro runs his fingers over the wooden countertop, imagines Lance with bed hair and a soft smile moving his long fingers on the surface.

Veronica wanders around as well, her eyes darting here and there. Was it also her first time or she just haven’t visited in a long time? She doesn’t let that thought wander as she sighs again and slumps down on one of the chairs. And just like that he sees it, the tired eyes and the wary shoulders. He expects it when she says,

“I’m not going to give you the shovel talk, I trust Lance enough that he knows what he’s doing,” she shrugs, smiles a small smile, “well, sometimes.” She motions at the cupboards behind her, “He always keeps the teabags somewhere at the edge of the place I think, the kettle is beside the fridge,”

She’s easing him in. Shiro realises this but he moves nonetheless, grateful to have something to do so he can hide his face when she wants to say whatever it is that’s setting her on edge. (He’s holding his breath too, he knew this was too good to be true)

“How’s working in the academy going for you?”

He pauses in rifling through the teabags, chooses the jasmine,

“Its…. a lot of paperwork actually.”

“Hah, you’re more of an action guy huh?”

“I used to be in the military.” But of course, Lance would’ve told her about that right?

She hums.

He plugs in the kettle, turns it on.

“Look Shiro, I really don’t know how to go around this so I’m going to be blunt,” he doesn’t face her, his shoulders are tight with tension. Veronica taps on the table twice, with her fingers.

“Are you just dating my brother because of-”

And its surprising, how he didn’t see this one coming at all. The idea of him falling for Lance because Adam’s fading voice and still grave. And he’s not- he’s not _ready_ , he can admit that but Lance, well. He’s different. Lance looks at him like he is and never falters when he goes quiet. Lance laughs and he’s never felt his heart feel lighter as it was then. Lance shows him flowers and when he asked why there are so many he said,

‘ _Each one of them represents love. Why can’t they be different ones? It’s love all the same Shiro,_ ’

So Shiro shakes his head quickly and say, “No, no. It’s just him.” He turns around as the kettle whistle, “I, I just want to stay with him.”

They take a moment to stare at each other, Veronica assessing him with her sharp eyes while he tries to look as honest and sincere as he can. The kettle quiets down, she sighs at him.

“Alright then.”

And as he takes spoons and cups from another drawer, she clears her throat and waits for him to bring the cups on the table. When he sits down, she closes her eyes, bites her lip before staring at him again.

“People say I’m insensitive sometimes,” she shrugs, “But I’m sure everyone already knows about Adam, right?”

He stays silent.

She continues, “And…. I know you’ve been here awhile but well, that’s not the only open secret around here.” Her hands touch the rim of the cup gently, it’s still too hot to drink, “We…. Lance. Lance and I had another sister once. Her name was Rachel.”

Veronica waits for any reaction from him but when she gets nothing, she purses her lip, “She was Lance’s twin in every way but age,” she sips the tea and leans on the chair,

“Our house back then was near the sea, and they’ve always loved to swim together there. Besides swimming classes, the beach had always been a place where they usually go to, so they can get away from the rest of us.” She sighs, “So when we moved houses, they started to get restless whenever no one wanted to bother with them at the time. Lance was six, she was four and,” Veronica takes another sip before she continues, her voice is shaky as she says, “And there was a well behind the house.”

There’s a distant crash from somewhere downstairs. Lance hollers something about vases and roses. The curtain flutters at the window. Shiro stays still.

“It was summer, and I- I was somewhere at the front. Father was fixing the broken sink again, my mother was out working. Lance and her…. they wanted to go out and play.” She shakes her head, “They just wanted to play.”

“We didn’t notice how long they were gone after mother came back from work….it was nearly night by then. Called the cops, the firefighters. When we found out about the well the only one who called back to us was Lance.

And I know. _I know_ how long it’s been since this happened but god, you’ll think I’m fucking crazy but ever since her death he’d _do_ things you know? He’d smile at me and say that it’s _fine,_ he’s not alone. He’d stay up late and tell me he’s only talking to friends when I _know_ he wasn’t. He’d- he’d look at me sometimes and I’d feel _scared_. I’d ask him why he wasn’t so upset about Rachel and he’d say ‘ _Why would I she’s right here_ \- “The water in her cup ripples with her trembling hands. She takes a deep breath, clears her throat.

“It’s better when he met Hunk in high school. I didn’t know what happened in college, but I heard he broke up with someone. He smiled again when I visited him after that though. The month after, he dropped out from the place and told my father that he was going to open a flower shop.”

She’s staring at Shiro now, and he doesn’t flinch.

“Now if he ever asks you, you didn’t hear it from me alright? He had an argument with father, I overheard, and I heard him say; _Why was it you?_ ”

And no. No no, no one deserves that. _Lance_ doesn’t deserve anyone telling him that he should’ve died. Shiro has his hands clenched, he’s angry and confused. Confused at Veronica for being afraid of Lance. What was she suggesting exactly? It was ridiculous to him; when you die that’s it. He’d spent too long watching people grasping desperately for life to believe in _ghosts_ (and what of Adam? He doesn’t want to think about it. You cannot fear something that isn’t true.).

Coran interrupts them, bounding in the kitchen, smart blue polo shirt and a determined face while Lance follows soon after, harried and annoyed, his apron bunched up in his hands. They argue about the recent drama circling around their latest customer, while Shiro hums along. He makes a pleased sound when Lance threads their hands together. (and god Lances hands are so small compared to his) Shiro presses a smile on his forehead when Lance runs his thumb over the back of his hand. He leans back and sigh, revel in the closeness that Lance lets him have.

He tries not to think about the conversation he had while Lance laughs at him when he zones out after. And by next week Lance tells him that Veronica was on her way to the airport and had left a bunch of white carnations in a vase out for her brother on the counter.

-

-

It’s hidden, in a way where you never really see it if you don’t look twice. Tucked away in corners and under shadows the leaves make when he changes their soil. You never really see it maybe, if you look at him once and label it for what it is. If you brush it off and say its empty.

Lance is more than that though.

His hands are always moving; there touching the petals on the side, here stroking the countertop, they’re agile and smooth, unlike his dark blue hard worn eyes. Those are sharp, assessing and sometimes hiding something he can’t quite reach.

The first time they kiss though, they’re bright, widened in shock. Then, crinkled at the sides in joy as he pulls Shiro in for a second one. They kiss in the damp, dark backroom and it feels like _everything._ He has Lances hands over him, fingers tugging his hair. He hears the loud pounding of his heart and the quick inhale and exhale of Lance as they kiss and kiss because he can’t get enough of it, something he never knew he could get greedy for.

His hands move on their own, running down Lances back, and he groans when he feels a shiver following his fingers. Shiro’s arms cages him in and Lance pulls him in harder, tugs his shirt so he can leave wet marks down the long column of Lances neck. And when they pull apart Lance laughs in breathless wonder, lips pink and swollen, flushed to his chest and it makes him melt and smile so wide his cheeks hurt. It feels like a first love.

Lance says, ‘ _You can tell me when you want to tell me. In the meantime, do you know what the hell Coran told me yesterday?_ ’ and proceeds to rant about it for a whole hour and it’s a little dumb because well, Shiro finds it adorable. Dumber because every time Lance pecks his nose his ears still turns red, he feels the heat curl in when Lance brushes a stray hair from his forehead and its so, so exhilarating.

He tells Lance one night, when the shop is closing and the broken radio spits out _Abba_ in the long shadows of the setting sun. Shiro stares at Lance arranging back the flowers for tomorrow and say,

“I wasn’t drunk when the accident happened.”

And Lance freezes, the clock stops ticking for awhile before he hears a hum of reply and Lance starts moving again, tilting his head to the side a little. So Shiro looks down and smiles tightly to the floor,

“I was just…. mad, I guess. At me. Adam. Everyone. Maybe it was my fault, or maybe it was the truck that hit me in the end, but I remembered waking up in the hospital after that and wondering why I feel like I’ve lost something important.”

Lance clears his throat, “Uh,”

He chuckles, “Besides my right arm Lance,” then he sighs, “I couldn’t- I remembered feeling so _lost_ I didn’t know what I wanted to do, where I was going after that. And well,” he shrugs, “Didn’t really know how, but I kind of stumbled in the job I have right now really.”

“That’s not true!”

“Come on Lance I hate grading papers.”

“But you love teaching,” Lance strides to him, waves the garden cosmos at his face and smirks, “Or do you want _me_ to do the teaching?”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“I don’t-”

“But?” he wiggles his eyebrows at Shiro, “I hear a ‘but’ somewhere there Shiro my hero,”

He gets a scoff for that and a small shrug, “But I think I can handle it now. Everything seemed less…. real before this.” Shiro looks at him, eyes bright and tired all at the same time and he kisses the space under Lances eyes. “And when I came here, I could’ve never pictured _this_ to be real.”

Lance is a little teary, a little overwhelmed. He tucks his head under Shiro’s chin and whispers, “You fucking sap,” sniffles out a, “ _I’m_ supposed to be the romantic one.”

Shiro runs his fingers down soft brown hair and smiles softly.

“Call me Takashi.”

His eyes shine a different kind of blue in the moonlight, his long arms cast a graceful figure around the colourful flowers he cares for. It’s hidden but then it blooms right here, just with them. There, do you see it?

He’s _beautiful._

_-_

_-_

Shiro’s planning a surprise visit to the flower shop when he sees her. She’s blonde, tall, lithe but with muscled arms and a toned stomach. Her black Harley is parked outside and when she takes off her helmet Shiro sees Lance running up to her in delighted surprise as he tugs her leather jacket and kisses both of her cheeks.

Her loud, airy laugh echoes in his head when he walks over. And it’s sudden, this immediate possessive desire to grab Lance and pull him away, this sense of wrongness when he sees her ruffling his hair.

“Shiro! I didn’t know you were coming in today,” Lance beams at him before he nods behind him, “This is Nyma we’re-” she steps up to them and smiles softly. Her eyes shine purple, they’re contacts he thinks, “Old friends, from college.” She grins at Lance and pinches his cheek as he whines out a protest, “Just wanted to drop by Lancey here and see how the shops going.”

After, when they’re all inside he learns that they weren’t _just_ friends from college. Nyma is an old girlfriend that Lance still looks fondly at, she’s a past relationship that never worked out because it’d felt like something temporary really, something fun to pass the time with. (Something bitter presses down his throat when he wonders about them, but he is reminded by the fact that Lance had settled down now, had sent him messages everyday of _‘Good mornings’_ and _‘Good nights’,_ had only called him _Kashi_ when they were alone together,)

But. Well. He’s a bit jealous still.

Lance has a distant far off look on his face when Nyma leaves after they chatted in the backroom. Shiro sees her leave something on the counter and Lance laughs when Shiro asks him about it, “They’re not _weeds_ Kashi,” He runs his hands over the greenish flowers, the fragrance it permeates is calming, “The Mignonette, _‘Your qualities surpass your charms’_ ,”he sighs, ”she gave me back the pressed flowers I made for her once _,_ ”

Shiro hugs him from behind, hooks his chin over his shoulder. Lance laughs quietly when Shiro blows hot air at his ear, “It’s fine,” Lance says. He closes his eyes, breathes in Shiro’s warmth and skin, the aroma of his shop.

“We’re fine.”

-

Lance ponders about what Nyma said to him, back in the shop. How calm she’d looked as she asks him,

_“Rolo’s dead, isn’t he?”_

He stays silent, he doesn’t say yes or no but really, that in itself, is an answer. She shrugs, leans back on the wall. Lance stews in the silence for a while before he sees Rachel frowning down at him from the upper shelves, so he hangs his head and finally tells her.

Tells her that he saw Rolo the other day hanging around the diner. That they talk about her when they can and that he doesn’t go there anymore because Rolo is laid back in life but unpredictable when he’s dead. Too many unfulfilled dreams, too many sad regrets; it’s been three times already since the lights exploded in the diner.

She says a quiet thank you and when they hug, he pretends not to hear the shaky exhale she leaves on his cheek.

“ _Is he good to you?_ ” she asks him, before they go up front. Then she pauses, says lowly, more cautiously, “ _Does he know?_ ”

Lance smiles at her tightly, shakes his head.

-

-

‘ _What the fucking hell Takashi?_ ’ Adam scowls down at his grave, tuts at Shiro, ‘ _I accept food offerings and no less! Bouquets for days now,_ ’ he sniffs, ‘ _I’d thought you’d leave my favourite French bread for me but nooo. Only_ now _you want to be lovey-dovey, hmph._ ’

Shiro shuffles a little to the side, pulls his coat closer while he mutters something about baguettes. Adam huffs an annoyed sigh while Shiro brushes off some of the dead leaves near his headstone. Groans a long-suffering exasperation as Shiro walks out of the graveyard, to his parked car.

‘ _Seriously what are you doing Takashi? When are you going to bring the beau to bed huh? When are you going to show him your nerdy Star Wars collection?_ ’ ‘Shiro has his hands busy with his phone before he gets in the car. He wonders if Lance had sent him any messages before this. ‘ _Oh, sure I felt how hard those abs are and yes you’re dashing and all, but don’t you remember hot biker girl couple of days ago? I bet she could lift that huge ass bike! You have to make a move idiot!_ ’

 Shiro slams the car door forcefully, he grumbles about something or the other, Adam smirks at him, ‘ _Excuses excuses, just admit you’re jealous and be done with it,_ ’ he starts the engine, but his hands don’t move from the steering wheel, ‘ _Take the next step, get closer. Maybe then he’ll finally tell you,_ ’

He stares out of the car window, where the sun shines on a peaceful day, the blue skies and the warm winds makes the trees sway and grass move. There are a couple of flowers hiding under the fences, morning glorys climbing up, and small, purple-white flowers moving with the breeze.

Adam blinks, ‘ _Oh my,_ ’

Shiro lets out a quiet laugh before he gets out of the car.

-

-

-Fifth Occupant-

Lance is very, _very_ surprised to see her coming in on Halloween of all days but he makes a big show out of it when he yells as she comes in the shop,

“Witchy Pidgey! In _my_ humble abode? On this auspicious night? WELL I-”

“ _Shut up,_ ” she hisses at him. Pidge scrunches her nose, glasses slipping down a little at that, scowls at him but he really can’t take her seriously when she has that dark green witch hat perched on her head. She doesn’t let that dissuade her though, she just gets right down to it. The pumpkin decorations make ominous lights on her face, the fake candlelight flicker a little when she angrily says,

“ _Lance,_ you can _see_ them, can you?”

‘ _Oh no,_ ’ he thinks. “See what?” he says, while he gives her a puzzled smile.

She glares at him, clenches her hand. “ _Don’t_ shit with me Lance. I never told you about Matt, or dad.” She shakes her head, and oh no, Lance waves his hands frantically. Pidge’s eyes have started to water, “And yet you _fucking know_ where they were stationed at when I just found out yesterday and I _know_ all these fucking rumours about you but no, _no_ this supernatural shit is just _that_. Fucking _bullshit,_ so either you tell me how the fuck you know, or you tell me the fucking _truth._ ”

They stare at each a while after that, Pidge breathing heavily, Lance holding his breath. ‘ _Another one bites the dust_ ’ plays unhelpfully in the background. Lance sighs, picks at his black nail polish, and murmurs,

“And if I say yes?”

Another long, drawn out silence. She looks blankly at him, shakes her head.

“If you say yes, I think I might have to drown half of my energy theory project down the drain Lance.”

He bites his bottom lip, shuts off the radio. “I don’t know what to tell you Katie,” her back trembles, her eyes are steady though, “All I can say is that-” and she looks up at that, hopeful and bright. “That they’ll probably be coming back soon.”

She shuffles her feet. Walks a little closer to Lance,

“Yeah?”

“…. yeah.”

“Thanks.”

He smiles softly at her, “No problem witchy Pidgey,”

She scowls at him. “Don’t call me that.” But then something falls open, her face vulnerable and sad. She rushes up to him with a hug that squeezes Lances breath from out of him. And when she leaves, she says,

“I still don’t really believe you by the way, tell it to me properly when you have real _solid_ evidence.”

Lance laughs at that and the next day, she brings Hunk with her, so they can discuss the possibility of making electricity with ghosts’ energy. It’s fun and light-hearted. He wishes it would always be like this.

-

The week before, he thought Admiral Sanda was just an ordinary old lady actually. Granted she has been staring at the yellow carnations for a while now, and her stiff coat was a uniform, he realises, when he sees it more clearly. And the bullet hole in her chests pretty much clues in on what she really is.

_‘You have disappointed me.’_ She sighs, ‘ _That’s what they mean right?_ ’

He doesn’t know. Honestly half of the time these ghosts expects him to answer all their weird questions like he knows what they mean. He shrugs, crouches down to spray the flowers.

‘ _I didn’t mean to,_ ’ she laments, ‘ _I only wanted to save them._ ’ she says. And he imagines her heart bleeds out for whatever happened in her life like how the black blood is currently gushing out from the gaping hole in her chest right now.

He stays a little longer and she murmurs, sighs, and sobs. She was in the army, she says. The Holts are alive she says. She made sure they’ll be able to go back if anything happens to her. Lance lets out a relieved breath and sends her thanks. She shakes her head at that and smiles wryly,

‘ _I don’t deserve it._ ’

-

-

_Hunky Hunk: Hey bro haven’t seen you in a while can I come in tmr?_

_Me: yeahhhh okay dude so this has nothing to do at all with Shay leaving you for that meeting upstate right_

_Hunky Hunk: Lance come on_

_Me: LaNcE coME oN_

_Hunky Hunk: I miss her :(_

_Me: And I have ten orders and Coran on my ass tmr bro Im sorry :’(_

_Hunky Hunk: :((((((_

_Me: you can’t make the puppy face on text man_

_Hunky Hunk: Im making garlic knots_

_Me: closing shop tmr call me when you get here_

_-_

He doesn’t actually bring any garlic knots to the shop. Hunk carries a big bag of baking supplies with him and a wide smile.

“It’s baking time bro!”

Lance groans at him in reply, even as he grudgingly led him up the stairs to the kitchen, “Seriously dude?”

Hunk shakes his head solemnly, “Very serious my dude. I’m not going to be baking you shit forever you know.”

“ _Hunk_ , don’t say that man.”

“Lance, _Lance_ I’m going to propose to her alright,”

Lance freezes. Stares back at Hunks determined face before he smiles.

“That’s great my man.”

They share a moment of peaceful silence before Hunk shrugs and starts to lay the things out on the counter,” Anyway, how are things with mister teacher huh?”

 “Mister…. teacher….” Lance grimaces at the amount of ingredients heaping on the table, why was it so hard to make food? He claps his hands together, starts to tuck in his sleeves, “His name is Shiro, Hunk my bro,”

“Yeah? And he’s a lot older than you right?”

He sticks out his tongue, tries to arrange everything to the side while Hunk ransacks his kitchen for anything else that wasn’t bread and toast.

“Oh yeah man, he has all that silver fox thing going on you know?” Lance huffs out a small laugh, “He’s a big freaking dork actually, something tells me he’s hiding something ‘embarrassing’ from me Hunk.”

“Hah! Wanna let him join DnD night next Friday?”

“Sure man!”

They work on the dough for a moment, putting the flour in the bowl. Hunk checks the oven, lines up the spices and vegetables at the side. It’s when Lance has bits of flour on his nose and Hunk is stirring the wet dough that he says,

“Hey buddy?”

Lance hums, “Yeah?”

“Are you happy with him?”

A pause, then, “Very happy Hunk.”

“That’s, that’s good.” Hunk nods, layers down butter on the metal tray, “He’s happy with you?” he asks, not unkindly.

“Hope so.”

“Does he treat you right?”

“Hunk what-”

“Does he think you’re amazing?”

Lance shakes his head, laughs incredulously,

“Now that’s-”

“Bud, does he think you’re _cool?_ ”

“Well,” he tries to rub the flour away from his nose by wiping on it, but a bigger white stain comes on his cheek, “maybe not as cool as Allura,”

Hunk squints at him, “But cooler than triple sundaes right,”

“Sure man.”

“Cooler than salt bae?”

“Now that’s a little over the top,”

“Cooler than the universe?”

Lance scoffs, “No way man!”

Hunk harrumphs as he heats up the oven and shoves the used utensils in the sink. But they don’t talk about Shiro for a while after that. They chat a little more, yells about the latest shows they promised to watch together but never got the time to, and when the delicious scent of garlic bread wafts in the kitchen and Lance starts to drool, the bell from downstairs rings.

Lance mournfully goes downstairs to handle it while Hunk sets out to make cold drinks for both of them. He’s humming a song when Lance goes back up. He has flowers in his hands. They’re clutched tightly, shaking a little.

Hunk stills, sighs. Sits down and pats the chair next to him. “Are they from Shiro?” he asks as Lance sinks down beside him. Lance nods blankly at him, Hunk isn’t sure he even realises he’s stroking the purple white petals on his lap.

“You wanna tell me what it means?”

“……...Milk Vetch,” his voice is a little raspy, a little stunned, “ _Your presence softens my pain,_ ”

And of course, Hunk knows. He’d been with Lance since they were still figuring out if Lance liked Nancy’s legs or Jacksons broad back, since Hunk admitted to him that he missed his family terribly and wasn’t sure if he ever wants to go to culinary school. Since Lance holds him one stormy night when Hunk stares blankly at the news report about his hometown that’s been ravaged by a hurricane. And since Lance says that it’s fine, it’s fine, they’re _fine._

And they _were_ fine, and ever since, Hunk believes him wholeheartedly when he says that he can see the dead. So, he pours them both cold peach tea as they wait for the bread to bake,

“He doesn’t know does he?”

Lance shakes his head. And, and Hunk knows about him, and about Shiro, about this whole bubble everyone’s been building around Lance so there’s this invisible line in which there’s those who know and who _don’t,_ and he knows its because Lance is scared, he’ll lose people he cares too much, make them take a step back from his circle. So, when Lance whispers at him, face pale and drawn out as he says, “What should I _do?_ ” He only says,

“I know you’re very stubborn dude but, I think I’m gonna have to give you free reign here. I don’t know how it really is between you two, but I know enough to trust that both of you are _adults_ about this alright?” Lance stays silent, Hunk sighs, “You should do what you think is _right_ Lance.”

The oven signals that’s it done suddenly, and the tense silence quickly dissipates as they munch down on their well-earned meal, (though in reality, Hunk was doing more of the work really).

Lance does not forget about it though. That night after he waves off Hunk, he collects all the roses in his shop that were younger, a little more beautiful. Takes out the dark blue dye and doesn’t bat an eye when some of it stains his hands, gets in his nails.

Tomorrow comes, and he tucks in the roses together and writes down Shiro’s address for delivery. Rachel frowns at him as he does so, and he feels his eyes water but still, he does not cry.

-

-

There’s this thing about ghosts, that he founds out soon after he gets out of middle school. They’re not _just_ apparitions, an energy in the air. They’re memories, hopes and dreams, fears and nightmares. They have this aura that always seems to affect one way or another at the living around them. They’re not old photos that never really faded, they’re _souls,_ the raw core of their human selves, body stripped away so all that’s left are emotions upon regrets upon anger upon sadness. Nothing to hold on to, everything to lose.

Just like how Adam wails at him now, at his bedroom window. He’s a thrashing wild child, sobbing out for salvation. His eyes are black, the blood run rivulets down to pool under his feet. He pulls at his dirty hair and he screeches out, ‘ _I didn’t want to die,_ ’ Lance tries to calm him down but his bed shakes and his light flicker again as Adam screams, ‘ ** _I didn’t want to die fuck-_** ’

Rachel whimpers huddled in the corner and Lance starts to back away. He paws around under the bed and sighs in relief when he finds it. Adam is still a crying, shouting mess but when Lance strums his guitar and hums a lullaby, he quiets down. Lance croons the song his mother used to sing for him, and Rachel hums along too, swaying a little. His voice gets louder, as Adams goes lower. And when there are just the quiet strings of a melody in the room, he mellows down. Adam hangs his head to the side and cries quietly. The moonlight shines down on him but he casts no shadow.

-

-

There’s someone knocking at his front door.

Lance frowns while he tries to rearrange back the flowers in his backroom when he was rudely interrupted by the sudden noise. He hasn’t open shop today, no one was supposed to come here. He sighs, if it’s a customer it’d be so bothersome, he’d wanted to have Rachels death anniversary in _peace_ damn it.  The knocking comes back again, now rather viciously. Lance has a fleeting panicked moment where he thought he’s going to get robbed (but really, a flower shop?) when Adam appears behind him with a rush of cold air and says,

‘ _Shiro’s fucking pissed at you Lance,_ ’

Ah.

Lance shakes his head. This is all on him, you reap what you sow and all that. Lance has been silent since he sent the flowers to Shiro, and it isn’t like he’d got around to tell him about his dead sister. (Shiro hasn’t got around to tell him about his dead boyfriend.) But whatever time he’d thought he had to face all this, whatever he thought he’d do when this moment finally came, well. It all goes out the window as he slowly sets the radio down, as he comes up to open the door to Shiro’s furious face.

He has the bouquet gripped tightly in his hand, blue petals falling. It’s a little dried up now, a dead thing that’s finally beginning to rot. Lance smiles at him, thin lipped. Shiro glares at him harder for that. He steps in and Lance steps back while he tries to steady his breathing.

“You got my flowers.”

He doesn’t answer. The silence stretches a little too long before there’s a choked out, angry, hissed, “I’m not- I’m _not unattainable._ ”

Lance twists his lips, his hands are shaking a little, “Hey man, how’d you know it isn’t me expressing my wonder to y-”

Shiro interrupts him with another crunch, he’s surprised the stems haven’t broken in two really. “You stopped talking to me.” Adam’s watching them on the side, he notices distantly. He wonders how it looks like, this slow-moving car crash.

“I know you Lance, when you send flowers it’s never direct. _Another meaning of the blue rose is that it symbolizes the impossible, or the unattainable._ It’s not hard to guess what you’re trying to say but if you wanted to break up with me I rather you say it to my _face._ ”

Lance blinks a little, clasps his hands together when he feels pressure behind his eyes. Oh, _now_ he wants to cry?

“You’re very busy-”

“Stop that.”

“I don’t want to-”

“I want to know _why,_ ”

Shiro isn’t angry anymore. The look in his face is pleading and puzzled, a broken, wretched thing. _I did that,_ Lance thinks. _I did that I did that this is my fault._

He closes his eyes in pain, “You don’t understand Shiro, you won’t- I can’t _tell_ you. You’d wished you didn’t know. I’m sorry, _I’m sorry_ but this is for you okay? You have to trust me, this is for _both of us_ , I-” he doesn’t say anymore. Can’t, with the stifling tension that chokes them both. Then Shiro shakes his head, spits out,

“ _Bullshit._ ” And no no, he never wants this; the tremble in Shiro’s hands, the ugly turn of his lips as he laughs hollowly, “It’s me isn’t it?” Lance blinks, “Can’t really go out with damaged goods, right?”

“No!” Lance shakes his head, horrified, “What? No no, you’re _perfect_ , I never thought I’d- fuck Kashi do you _know_ how great you are? It’s not you I swear it’s-”

“Then tell me what it is!” that loud, wilting, pleading voice again, “Just _tell me,_ ”

Lance is shaking his head again, hands clutching his head because Adams a little nearer now, a little unstable. His eyes are black again, the blood that drips down is sticky and dark, _rage_ comes off him like hot radiation that burns his back.

“Lance, _Lance,_ ” he whimpers, he doesn’t want to, he needs to, he wishes, he regrets, is this even him right now- “Lance _please,_ ”

The radio turns on with a snap, static belching out like a growl, like Adams loud hiss and Lance blurts out without a thought.

“I can see ghosts!”

The thick stillness after that is so quiet, they could’ve heard a pin drop. One, two, his heart beats rapidly as he sees Shiro blinks once and twice, trying to parse what he’d just said. He frowns then, turns it into a scowl, “Don’t fucking _joke_ with me right now Lance-”

“I’m- I’m not-”

‘ _Oh, this is fucking precious isn’t it?_ ’ and Adams- Adam’s _burning,_ smoke and ashes spilling on the floor, drool and meat dribbling down his open jaw as he glares daggers at Shiro’s unseeing face, ‘ _Everything’s so cut up and nice for you isn’t its Takashi? I’ll do this, you’ll do that, I say something, and you say no I’ll do what I want-’_

“No, I’m not joking I’m _serious_ , ever since Rachel died, I couldn’t stop- and Adams-”

“ _Adam?_ ”

And there it is; the shock in his pale face, the burgeoning anger in his hard eyes, the _fear,_ something he’d always seen in Veronica, in Keith, something he tries to run away from, something he sees in the mirror every day. He shakes his head, but Shiro’s already breaking down in front of him, flowers slipping from his loose hold,

“We didn’t- You _don’t-_ What are you trying to _say_ Lance _?”_

“He’s _here._ ”

The windows rattle, the light flickers. Shiro’s looking at him like he’s never seen him before. He shakes his head, holds his metal arm. Suddenly everything around them turns frigid, and his fingers won’t stop _shaking._

“You.” He clenches his hands,” This is cruel Lance,”

Adam _snaps._

_‘Cruel? Cruel?! What’s cruel is what you do to yourself, what’s cruel is what you’re doing to **him-** ’_

“I’m not lying _please,_ I can see him, and I can prove it to you-”

“No-”

‘ _Yes,_ ’

“He told you once, that he likes the smell of coffee in his books, that he likes it when you wear your glasses that-”

‘ _-I hate the light sunset makes like the world is ending, that I hate how you brush off things that kills you like its nothing-_ ’

“-that every time you fell sick, he brings you movies and songs and after you entered the military its cassettes and letters-”

‘- _that I already know you bought a ring, but I also know you weren’t ready, that I wasn’t ready too, that the only thing I didn’t say when we fought for the last time was-_ ’

“I love you.”

Shiro is quiet, still. A broken wreckage, and when he moves, it whines on its hinges. “Enough.” He whispers. Lance chokes on a breath. Here it is.

“Stop.” He says.

Outside, the winds howl ominously, at the back, a vase breaks, the noise echoing distantly. Lance bites his lip, hangs his head. Shiro’s _crying_ , wet trails to his chin and when he steps away from Lance, he doesn’t try to stop him.

The bell rings, Lance sinks down to his knees, buries his hands to his face, and finally, he let his tears fall.

-

‘ _Are you fucking kidding me?_

_Oh, this is just fucking great, he finally says it and you’re what? Running away? You never listen to me, fuck, you never listen! Fuck you, I mean it, turn the fuck back right now Takashi I fucking swear-_ ’

-

‘ _Please please please stop, you’re making a mistake, fuck, turn back turn back, he doesn’t deserve this, you don’t deserve this-_ ’

-

‘ _This is karma isn’t it? I ran away from you because I couldn’t face the fact that you wanted more than me, I feared and now you’re doing the same fucking thing I’m sorry fuck fuck I’m sorry Takashi okay? I’m sorry I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have put you up like that, we could’ve stayed friends, I was so scared, fuck please please turn back I’m begging you **turn back-**_ ’

-

The sun sets.

-

Lance hasn’t moved from the middle of the shop when the bell rings again. He’s curled up, his legs numb already from the cold, hard floor. He doesn’t even move when there’s soft, unsure steps coming up towards him, ignores Rachel sniffling near the radio, the wet, sticky marks on his cheeks.

Stays quiet, even when Shiro crouches down and pulls him in to his chest, worried and stricken, murmuring soothing words in his ear and stroking his hair with a pained sound. He blinks a little, then he rasps out,

“I’m not what you need right now.” His hands snake up to Shiro’s shirt, grips it with a quivering hand, “I’m not what you deserve,” Shiro starts to protest but he laughs harshly, “Just stop, in what fucking universe are we even together? Face it, I’m not good for you.” Lance swallows on a dry throat, burrows closer in Shiro’s warmth, if only for now.

But then Shiro takes a breath, a low rumble, “I don’t care about that.” Really? “I’m. I’m not scared.” A lie. “I’m not scared of you.” He stares right at Lances eyes when he says this, so maybe it’s true. “You, when I’m with you I,” he traces the corner of Lance lips, he imagines them curling into a smile, “You make me so _happy,_ I feel lighter, free.” And he ducks down, sniffing, “I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose you.”

They hold each other tightly, chest to chest, hands scrambling up to bury into Shiro’s hair, Lance’s shaking back. It’s rocky maybe, a kind of confession that wasn’t at all perfect, or a rejection that never turned into one. But it’s a first step.

They breathe in each other for a while, and they get up, and they head upstairs. Lance lets him in the bed, and they curl up together and hear each other’s heartbeat.

Adam stares outside the window where the lamplight pools soft yellows on their faces. He sighs, and then he smiles up at the moon above them.

-

-

Something breaks, after that.

They’re closer to each other now, where before Lance hesitates to touch Shiro all over, now he’s bolder, squeezing his biceps, grinning from under his thighs. Where before Shiro, a romantic at heart, holds back on the pet names, now calls him ‘ _Bluebell’_ and ‘ _Baby_ ’.

Shiro takes Lance home after so many nights in the flower shops bedroom, and Lance screeches in glee when he pulls the curtain over his closet and see his many Star Wars collections and figurines. They have game nights too, Lance huddled between Keith and Shiro in Keith’s comfy sofa, and they holler and shout in chaotic elation whenever they win. Lance, in return, invites both of them to stay over Hunks house (it’s a slumber party really, but Keith refuses to call it that). They put on clay masks and nail polish and Lance feels proud of the high, red colour on Shiro’s cheeks.

‘ _When’s the wedding Lance?_ ’

He sputters, blushes, “ _Adam_ come on man, it hasn’t even been a year yet,”

Adam grins, snickers, ‘ _Hate to break it to you kid but dead daddy committee over there,_ ’ he gestures to the huddled figures of Alfor, Keith’s dad and Zarkon going over in what seemed like a very heated discussion at the corner, ‘ _Well, they’re already debating the name of your second child man,_ ’

He groans in reply.

And well, that’s another thing that’s changed. While he was used to Hunk since high school knowing he can see, Shiro’s a bit cautious with him. When he talks with the ghosts or stare off too long, he’d look at him questioningly and Lance won’t hesitate to tell him what it is, (or more specifically, who it was). Adam is still a sore topic, so he tries to avoid talking about him a lot. They’ll get there soon enough, and soon Shiro will ask him nonchalantly about Adam and they’ll laugh about it together. Soon, but not now.

They go on more dates, to the city’s aquarium, the movies, the mall. Lance gets to see the university Shiro works at when he visits for lunch and this time, they go to the graveyard together, to visit Rachel’s old tombstone, and Adams resting place.

They sleep together too. Like _, sleep together_ , sleep together. Lance is a gasping, heated mess on his bed as he tries very hard not to tear open the buttons of Shiro’s clothes, ( _Off, off! Why do you have so many god damn clothes-)._ Shiro is equally desperate, hair in disarray where Lance had pulled at it when he’d swallowed Lance whole before this, when he squeezes Lance thighs with reverence.

When they’ve taken everything off, he kisses Lance again, rough and wet. His tongue tasting the chocolate Lance ate, his chest pressing Lance down to the bed. Lance hisses when he grinds hotly at Shiro’s leg and babbles, “Fuck _god_ I swear- I just want-” Shiro sucks a bruising mark at his neck, the answering moan pulls a low groan from him, “ _In me_ fuck, right now please. I’ll rename this place _blue balls_ if you don’t-”

Shiro gives off a choked out laugh before he slinks down, licks the hollow dip above Lances clavicle, to the heaving chest under, to the belly button before he grins up at Lance, “ _Fuck you_ oh my god just fuck me already-”

That makes him grip Lances hip tightly, and its not that soon before the condoms and lube join them on the bed. He pauses for a while though, stills and just stares down at Lance, his eyes dark.

“Are you sure about this?”

And Lance tries to hold the expression of confidence on his own face, but he ends up cracking. Shiro looks so incredibly _intense_ that Lance just laughs, which is pretty bad considering this is supposed to be important, but he can’t help it. That isn’t them, they’re not the super serious, deadly straight-faced type, not when they’re alone together anyway. It doesn’t feel right, and Lance would rather not pretend he is right now.

Shiro’s face softens anyway, his mouth doing that thing where he’s trying not to smile. Lance pulls him in, kisses his mouth with a loud smack and turns it into a full-blown laugh. “Yes, this is what I want,” he giggles, “what I really really want.”

“I’ll give you what you want,” Shiro says, his voice low and husky, his eyes sparkling, “What you really really want”

“God _stop-_ ”

There’s another high-pitched giggle (and Lance isn’t sure if it was only from him) before there’s a loud moan followed by the aggressive snap from the lube cap as Shiro ducks down to put his face in the middle of his thighs. After that, well, he gets a noise complaint from one of his neighbours and agrees to himself never to tell Shiro about it. Ever.

There’s one night in the flower shop, where Rachel decides to get all supportive and sweet, so she turns on a soothing love tune while he sings and plays with his guitar. Then she shouts at him to go with Shiro already, so he relents and takes Shiro for a dance around his flowers. Shiro’s not really good at waltz, apparently, so they kind of just sway and move their hips at one spot while trying not to step on each other’s feet.

He doesn’t mind. His chest feels like its floating, like this could go on forever. Like it could be reality.

-

Reality isn’t really like that though, isn’t it?

-

-

Lance shudders, one Thursday night, when he feels cold, hard fingers gripping tightly at his shoulder. Haggar stares at him with her black, hollowed out eyes and crows softly,

‘ _Not long now boy, you already smell like one of us,_ ’

-

-

It happens in a flash, the sun spearing down his eyes, the sound of broken glass, the distant blaring. He can’t remember what they were doing before this, he was walking outside with Shiro, and they were, they were smiling and talking about something when he hears a shout from somewhere above them then this- _fuck-_ this heavy _thing_ bearing down his back.

There’s water pooling to the road, he can’t seem to concentrate, he sees people gathering and someone just won’t stop _screaming._

Oh.

It’s him. _He’s_ screaming. The wet thing dripping down his back is blood and the crunch he feels when he tries to move are pieces of glass, stuck to his skin. His shock recedes to a painful agony when he feels tears on his face, but the searing pain at his back is still _there._

He’s in panic, scraping his throat raw as he shrieks when someone tries to move him to the side. _It hurts it hurts-_ but no, suddenly Shiro’s here, and there’s blood on his face too and he’s crying. Why is he crying- _fuck help someone-_

“Lance, Lance _fuck_ , calm down calm down, shhh, the ambulance is on the way-”

_No no no_ , he tries to say through the haze of pain, _not the hospital._ And he does mumbles it out, he thinks, sobbing and begging at Shiro to, ‘ _Please please Kashi no not the hospital please fuck I beg you not the hospital_ ’

But then another searing sharp stab that squeezes air out of his lungs, that blinds him with the pain and then, and then…...

And then nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Close your eyes, dry your tears  
> My dear  
> Hear my voice, feel my skin  
> For death is near'
> 
>  
> 
> Flowers and their symbolic meaning mentioned in this chap,  
> Sweet peas – delicate pleasures  
> Winter cherries – deception  
> White carnation – sweet and lovely  
> Garden cosmos – joy in love and life  
> Mignonette – your qualities surpass your charms  
> Morning glory – coquetry  
> Milk vetch – your presence softens my pain  
> Blue rose – appreciation for the enigmatic, the inexplicable (http://roseforlove.com/the-meanings-of-blue-roses-ezp-39)


	3. Feverfew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D

_Black black black roses,_

_Alive inside my hands and it’s so bizzare,_

_It’s an old old old story,_

_There’s no harmony no without the harm_

_-Beautiful Wreck [MØ]-_

What he remembers most is the overwhelming darkness, pressing over him, erasing any sense of reality he might have had before this. The second thing was the _cold_ , wet and suffocating him, threatening, every single time his arms and legs gets tired from trying to stay afloat, every single time Rachel shakes and sobs, clutching his neck like a lifeline, and when she stops sobbing, when she’s barely breathing from behind him, it starts to feel like a noose.

When they finally find the well, Lance has a dead body on his back and he’s shivering violently from the freezing water. He breathes, once, twice, wills his throat to work as he lets out another strained cry for help, as he says his name again and again when he starts to hear shouts and blaring lights. Then he drops his hands, air suddenly stuck in his throat. He convulses, stops moving, and sinks down to the dark waters below.

They say, when they managed to pull him out, that Rachels body have already gone hard and cold from death. That as he breathes shallowly, they had to break the frigid hold she has around his neck. They say, though he hears it in whispers and quiet hallways, that the moment they pried her off him, water leaked out of her eyes. As if she was crying in sorrow.

-

“Why? Why can’t you be _responsible_ for once Lance?”

“It’s not my fault and you know it. Dad- fuck I know what they fucking say about me alright? That’s the college drop-out, that’s the _troublemaker_ , that’s the _stupid_ one. Don’t pretend you wished I wasn’t here, every time I _told_ you it wasn’t my fault you won’t _believe_ me-”

“How can I? When it’s been twice now? Three times? I can’t keep paying for your mistakes Lance-”

“ _I said it wasn’t my-_ Argh! Fine, _fine._ I’m leaving, I never wanted this, I never wanted _anyone_ to have to pay for this, so I’ll leave. You never wanted me anyway,”

“Lance, no. That’s-”

“What was it you said? _‘’Why was it you?’_ Don’t waste your breath,”

“I never meant it. You should know that. You’re my son, you’ll always be my son.”

“And I’ll never be something else huh?”

“……”

“Goodbye dad,”

-

When he wakes up in the hospital after nearly drowning in the well the first thing he sees are black eyes and a wide, wide smile.

His family is overwhelmed with relief, hugging him where they can, where he still shivers from hypothermia. But he doesn’t look at them. He stares at the woman standing by his bed, long, dirty black hair to her waist, bloodied face, a weird kind of scrabbling sound coming off from her wide-open mouth.

Her eyes are white dots staring down at him with a kind of manic glee that makes him want to hide under the covers and he would’ve, if he wasn’t so shocked by her. Lance doesn’t move for a whole two hours and his family calls for the doctor when he starts hyperventilating and peeing on the bed.

She’s not the only one like that in the hospital. Every single night, every single hour he sees walking corpses staring at him through the curtains, at the hallways as the nurse turns off the lights, in his mirror where they smile and tilt their head to the side. He’s too petrified to scream, too scared to sleep. The doctor had to give him extra medications to calm him down, that doesn’t stop Lance from seeing them though. Grotesque, sad creatures vying for attention. Naughty, vile demons as they laugh and snicker every time, he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to sleep.

‘ _It’s just a nightmare, it’s fine, it’s going to be fine,_ ’

He was so sure about it. Once they let him leave the hospital they’ll be gone. All of these, these _dead_ _people_ are just one long fevered dream because he still can’t get over the fact that Rachels dea-

He steps out of the hospital, the doors swinging shut behind him, and the first thing he hears is Rachels loud, happy laugh.

-

Lance is a little quiet after that. But then something shifts, turns, and he’s suddenly the loudest one on the dinner table. The one to laugh first when he finds something funny, the one to shout a little bit higher when he gets angry. He smiles and jokes through the stink of death that surrounds him and thinks maybe, just maybe, if he’s louder than them, then they’re not really there at all. It’s a flawed kind of logic, but its what gets him through the years until he meets Hunk. (But he never once steps in the hospital again, a place where this slow-moving nightmare began.)

-

After he broke things off with Nyma, they still hang out for movie nights. And there’s this one moment, where he tells her to stop the bike and follow him through the plains of grass flowing in the spring meadow. A carpet of flowers, swaying in the wind.

“Wonder why they give it to people really, they’re _dead_.” Nyma says this with an amused tone so he knows she’s just playing around. He muses it on it though, picks up the flowers for a flower crown and thinks about it some more.

Taking care of dead things, it doesn’t sound quite that bad right?

Several months and a couple of suggestions from Hunk later, he’s standing in front of an empty building, blue paint beside him, and a wide content smile on his face. It’s not everything, but it’s surely a start.

-

-

‘ _Lance is in the hospital_ ’

That’s it. No explanation, no lead on, no nothing. Keith stares at his phone a little too long until he has to lower it down lest he drops it from how hard his hands were shaking. His first instinct was to call him back and demand to know what happened, to rush to the nearest hospital and call for the nearest nurse. But he’s changed now, more level-headed, a touch calmer.

So even when his heart beats rapidly in worry and he hopes and prays for good news, he knows Shiro will make sure Lance’s alright. And before he goes there, he turns on his phone again to call for Allura and the others.

-

-

Lance wakes several times before he’s fully conscious. The first time he wakes up, his eyes are heavy things telling him to go back to sleep, his arms are limp, thin, bandaged lines with an IV drip attached to one hand, his head is piercing in the middle of his eyes with an insistent throbbing and there’s a foul taste in his mouth. His back is numb, he realises later.

He sees Shiro’s slump form in one corner of the room, head drooped to one side and his hair in disarray. Then he breathes a little faster when he hears a child giggle just beside his ears, but when he tries to turn his head the child claws at his arms and cries for his mother. He blacks out.

 

He wakes up again, this time with an important knowledge that here, right now, he’s in the hospital. He blinks a little faster, tries to steady his breathing. But he can’t, he can’t, not with the bloodied woman standing at the corner of the room, with the slashed eyes of an old man in the corridor. He whimpers, because the pain at his back is right there again suddenly, and he struggles to move away from the bed.

His quickened heartbeat makes the beeping sound beside him louder, and suddenly he hears exclamations, so many people talking, and, and Shiro. Shiro telling him to breathe, from _one, two, Lance calm down, come on with me now, one, two._ And he nods, one, two, then he slips back to unconsciousness.

 

The third time he wakes up he knows what to expect now, but he never really expected Adam.

‘ _Hey there sunshine, feeling like shit right now?_ ’

Adams smirking at him but it’s a bit half-hearted. Lance tries to say his name, but his throat feels raw and thick, so he settles on a pleading stare. Adam sighs.

_‘Whole block of glass fell on top of you from a nearby building, they brought you to the hospital, I don’t speak doctor but I’m guessing the reason you’re not screaming in pain right now is the several stiches you have on your back and the loads of anaesthetic they put in you._ ’ He shrugs, ‘ _You were mumbling about how you didn’t want to go to the hospital over and over so lover boy over there stayed here since the accident._ ’

Lances’ neck is too stiff for him to shake his head, instead what comes out is a shaky exhale. Adam sighs again, but this time in exasperation,

‘ _It’s not your fault, god shut up. He was filthy with sweat and your blood and all, so he went out to change clothes and a toilet break. I think. Anyway, I’m here in case you freak out again so yayyy,_ ’

Lance blinks at him demurely. He sighs _again_ but with annoyance,

‘ _You’re fine Lance I’m not letting you join me too alright._ ’ A thoughtful pause, then, ‘ _You want me to tell you more about him?_ ’

There’s a long awkward silence before Lance slowly shakes his head and tries to speak again. He scrapes it out by pure effort and will, but he manages to, in the end,

“Tell me about you,”

Adam stares at him for a good long while. Then he sighs yet again and tells Lance about him (how he hates pineapples on pizzas, how he loves the face his aunt makes when he swears). When Lance drifts off and he’s left there to wait for Shiro to come back, he wonders about chances and possibilities of the universe. Then he tilts his head to the side and murmurs,

‘ _What’s this? You trying to make me fall for you too now?_ ’

 

The last time he wakes up he’s met with a soft pressure on his nose and Miss Ezors’ beaming smile. Zethrid is there too, but her smile is softer, more worried.

‘ _Hey there kiddo! Heard you got in quite a prickly situation,_ ’ Miss Ezor scrunches her nose, purses her lips then nods at him, ‘ _So we brought the whole gang here!_ ’

‘ _What?_ ’ Is what he’s tries to say but it comes out more like a _Whaa?_ so before he can do anything, he sees Alfor waving his bony hands at him, Zarkon blinking at him with his head tucked under his arm, Keiths’ dad smirking at him, Lotor sticking his tongue out, Admiral Sanda with a soft smile and just beside the corner there, at the window, Rachel swinging her legs with a bright grin.

It’s a bit overwhelming, very much surprising. And then slowly, he feels something unfurl, and melt. Feels warmth flowing down to his ice-cold fingers and thinks of the smell from the kitchen whenever he’s mother’s at home, the wide, beaming smiles his brothers and sisters gave to him. This is it, he thinks. This is what family feels like right? He wonders.

Then, someone pushes the curtains to the side, lets the sunshine pour through the windows, to his plain bedsheets. And then, his family _extends._ There, that’s Hunk isn’t it? Crying through closed hands, hulking figure shaking with relief, with Shay beside him, holding his hand. There’s Keith with his scowl and trembling hands, holding on to his bed. Over there, Allura, with a brave face and concerned smile, (and was that Romelle beside her? Fingers entwined? He’s not sure,) Coran wiping his eyes with a handkerchief and Pidge, red eyes still glistening, though her brow is frowning, Veronica, with a tired half-smile that brings the wrinkles back to her face, and, and. And oh. There’s Shiro.

Shiro who has shadows under his eyes, who looks like he hasn’t slept for weeks, who’s gripping his hand now, whispering his name again and again. He closes his hands on Shiro’s’, says, it’s alright, it’s fine. He’s fine. And more surprisingly, this time he means it. His heart has never felt this full in _years._

_-_

-

He stays in the ward for a whole month. The medical jargon he hears from the other ghosts flies over his head just like the calm reassurance the doctor tells him about his recovery. Shiro stays with him through it all though, so it’s not so bad really.

‘ _You’re missing work,_ ’ he tells Shiro one day, a little bit angry, a little bit touched, ‘ _Get your ass out there man, you’re doing the world a great disservice!_ ’

He’s happy to see Shiro smile at him for that, he relents, and since then, he comes in when he can. Sometimes he brings his work with him, chides at Lance to eat his lunch, laughs when Lance pulls a face at him. At the end of the month, they finally let him out of the bed, but not out of the hospital.

When he’s in physical therapy, Adam is there with him to tease and call him Bambi while he struggles to work his legs back to strength. (The ache at his back never goes away, and there’s a moment in the toilet. Where he stares at the mirror too long, his back facing it. He traces the long, serrated edges of his scars that runs down from the end of his neck to his waist, some of them extending to his arms. He swallows down bile and tries not to throw up his lunch in the sink again,)

And finally, he spends his last day in the hospital tracing the worn lines under Shiro’s eyes, the slight tilt of his lips, the worried look in his eyes. This is his fault again, he knows that. Bringing Shiro through all of this? The accident, the trauma, the blood. He closes his eyes, ‘ _I’m sorry,_ ’ he starts to say but Shiro shakes his head, kisses his wrist and whispers fiercely,

“None of this, _none of this_ , was your fault do you understand? You’re safe and I would’ve done anything for it to stay that way. I- I still don’t know what goes in your head, but I know you blame yourself for having me stay with you. Lance,” Shiro’s teary-eyed, he swallows on dry air, “Your _worth it,_ okay?”

A long, drawn out silence comes after that. Lance chokes on a laugh when someone’s phone goes off and Fifth Harmony starts playing in the background. ‘ _Okay,_ ’ he says.

“Okay.” He sniffles, their hands holding on to the other like an anchor.

-

The bell sings in a familiar signal in his flower shop, and as Lance carefully sits down on his bed, he’s suddenly enveloped by a tight, crushing hug. Shiro’s back is shaking, so he smooths it down with his hands, whispers reassurance in Shiro’s ear.

Adam stays silent, then, he hums an unfamiliar tune by the window.

-

-

Lance doesn’t open shop for a while after that. His body is still weak from bedrest, his mind still a jumbled mess in his head. He regrets it soon after though, when he sees the state of his shop. Coran tries his best, but he always favoured the roses than the rest of the flowers.

There’s a lazy Sunday before he truly starts, where he’s still in bed with Shiro even though its already eleven, and they trace back the marks they’ve left last night, laughs each time Shiro tells Lance to get out of bed but none of them do.

Lance hums quietly then, he closes his eyes and he say,

“When I was in college every time I go out of the dorms, there’s this old man who fell down the stairs two years ago shouting at me to ‘leave his country.’” Shiro stays silent, so he snuggles closer to his chest and continues, “At finals week I broke my leg when he tripped me from the fourth floor. At class I see students I’ve never seen before with gunshots at their face, had to leave early because I threw up in the middle of a lecture,” he hums, “At night there’s a woman in the common room who wouldn’t stop crying even when I turn the stereo on.”

He looks away, hides his face in Shiro’s neck, “I, I couldn’t live like that. And study, keep up, and expect it to turn out alright. I got reckless, didn’t care what I did, who I hurt, what it meant.” Shiro looks at him steadily, even though he feels like he’s going to break. He shakes his head, “So I gave up and left.”

“And now?”

Lance stares at him, and smiles softly, “I think I’ll stay,”

The bed is too warm for him to leave it.

-

-

 

“Hey, you know he forgives you right?”

“…..”

“And he’s sorry too, he wants you to know that.”

“I don’t….”

“He also said, and I’m quoting here man, ‘ _You’re still an idiot but if you thought for one second that you don’t deserve this than you’re a bigger idiot than I thought you were,_ ’”

Shiro laughs at that, though his eyes are wet, “Yeah?”

“Yep.”

“Alright.”

Then,

“Thank you. Lance.” and he finally sounds content.

-

-

-

-

-

This is them now; Shiro comes back from work, to the flower shop. Walks over their petals and their fragrance to the counter up front. He greets the store owner with a kiss on the cheek, and Lance will retaliate with a wet kiss on his mouth. He’ll clean, close shop, and they’ll go up the stairs to the bedroom. It’s picture perfect, but really, nothing ever is.

One of them will wake up, cold sweat running down their back, shallow gasp echoing in the bedroom. One of them will go to the kitchen where the light is off, and they’ll stay there until the other comes up and say, ‘ _It’s alright._ ’ Or ‘ _It’s going to be fine,_ ’. They’re not pearls of wisdom uncommonly thrown around, they are words you might say to a child.

Lance closes his eyes and feels the warmth of Shiro’s skin, as familiar as his own. The radio plays a random tune and they’ll sway together with the music. They listen to each other breathe, and somehow, they are comforted.

‘ _It will be alright._ ’

They do not mean that it does not hurt, that they are not frightened. Only that: we are here. This is what it means to swim in the tide, to walk the earth and feel it touch your feet.

This is what it means to be alive.

 

Adam knocks the cookie jar over, makes it clatter to the floor. Lance only laughs and Shiro hides a chuckle at the space between his neck and shoulder. Rachel giggles, flicks the drapes to let the sunlight in. They move, talk, and eat until sunrise pools in the windows of the flower shop, overlooking the quiet street. They touch, and they breathe and they are _alive._

At eight, the bell tinkles quietly, ready for their first customer.

 

- _fin-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes yes I know that last part was completely taken from the last paragraph of 'Circe' by Madeline Miller, go read it guys its sooo good, anyway there were some things that didnt make the cut here, like the backstreet boys joke I wanted to write, and an extra about the BOM well! perhaps later, lastly, Ive been a little lost, a little angry, a little sad, a little hopeful, but this ship always had a special spot in my heart....this is for the shancers! have a good one!! 
> 
> I have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/crazydurians)! and check out my other [fics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatchaMochi/works) too! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are highly appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> The lyrics of dramaturgy was taken from jubyphonic's cover of it but eve's original one sounds just as good!  
> These are the list of flowers and their symbolic meaning mentioned in this chap taken from The language of flowers a miscellany by Mandy Kirby and some of them are admittedly from the internet ahah,  
> Bluebell – constancy  
> Hyacinth – constancy  
> Tulip – declaration of love  
> Yellow carnation – disdain  
> Lily – majesty  
> Olive flower – peace  
> Oxlip – confidence  
> Lavender – mistrust  
> Green carnation – hints at homosexuality (https://www.oscarwildetours.com/about-our-symbol-the-green-carnation/)  
> Lilac – first emotions of love  
> White rose – a heart unacquainted with love  
> Black rose – bereavement, loss and mortality (http://roseforlove.com/the-meanings-of-black-roses-ezp-38)  
> Forget-me-not – forget me not  
> Marigold – grief  
> Heliotrope – devoted affection  
> Helenium – tears  
> Blue violet – spirituality/ "lesbian flower" because in the early 1900s, lesbian women would give violets to the women they were wooing. This symbolized their "Sapphic" desire, so called because Sappho, a Greek lyric poet, in one of her poems described herself and her lover as wearing garlands of violets. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Viola_sororia)  
> Lilly of the valley – return of happiness  
> Red rose – love  
> Myrtle – love  
> Daffodil – new beginnings  
> Larkspur – lightness  
> Pink rose – grace  
> Yarrow – cure for a broken heart
> 
> and as always kudos and comments are highly appreciated!!


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